


Hellbound

by NyxEtoile



Series: The Dark Inside [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, POV Original Character, Psychological Trauma, darkish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/><i>His brow furrowed with the faintest hint of confusion. Then he shook her hand off and was lost again. “I know you disapprove, dear heart. But the equation hasn’t changed.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“What equation?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He barely glanced back. “You versus my ambitions. My ambitions win. Every time.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She planted her feet and tried one last time. “For someone so obsessed with other people betraying you you’re very eager to turn your back on me.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Below is an author process, character development/relationship arc, yes, I *was* a Lit major how can you tell? type rant. If that doesn't interest you feel free to skip to the TLDR section or right to the story itself.
> 
> As I mentioned in a comment of _Where my Demons Hide_ that story originally had a sad ending, with Loki leaving her in Asgard. I plotted it that way because I firmly believed Syn's assessment of them. They were a tragedy, not a romance. When my friend convinced me to change it I agreed that it was a better ending, but for me, it didn't address the tragedy problem. I wrote the epilogue thinking "Yeah, it's nice, but I give 'em a year. Two tops." Loki's ambitions hadn't changed, Syn still wasn't willing to go conquering with him and while I felt he did love her even if he wouldn't say it, there was an unevenness to their affection that bothered me. And so, sequel.
> 
> There's a quote I've seen online that I can't find now. Something about "you don't know what your characters are made of until you tear them apart." I do a bit of that here. I sat down and thought, what would need to happen to Loki (and Syn) for them to get them where I want them to be? And the answer was "a lot."
> 
> TLDR: This story gets dark. I avoided being graphic as much as I could, so I didn't think it deserved an archive warning. But it is a much different tone then _Demons_. I hope you like it anyway. I think the journey is worth the destination.

Traveling with Loki involved a lot of running.

Syn had discovered this fairly early on in their adventures, along with how, exactly, he had earned the appellation Trickster. Now, after more than two years she was almost used to being rousted in the middle of the night to run for her life in her night gown.

This didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

“Just once I would like to go somewhere and have you _not_ alienate half the planet,” she hissed at his back as he dragged her through the city streets. Sounds of a riot echoed down an alley and he turned abruptly, catching her arm to keep her with him.

“Oh, it’s not everywhere we go.” He wasn’t even out of breath the damned Asgardian bastard.

“Yes, it is.” She stopped short and yanked back on his arm, keeping him from being trampled by a group of revolutionaries. “We are going to run out of planets to visit at this rate.”

“Nonsense. They’ll get over it in a century or two.” He glanced around and tugged her along again. He seemed to have some destination in mind, though of course he hadn’t shared it with her. “Besides, you practically encouraged me this time.”

She gaped at him. “I never!”

“You did so. The third night were were here, at the king’s supper.”

Syn wracked her memory of that night as he dragged her down another alley and across a courtyard. Finally, it occurred to her what he was talking about and she groaned. “Loki-”

“Hush.” He tucked them into the shadows of the courtyard and glanced up at the sky. He gave her his trickster smile and curled one hand around her throat, the other holding her waist. She realized what he was about and closed her eyes tightly as the world fell away from them.

She wasn’t entirely sure how he moved from one realm to another. He seemed to have a dozen different methods. Hidden caves, magic objects, phases of the moon. Sometimes, like now, he just found a particular spot and whisked them away, the same way she could move from one shadow to another. That was the extent of her traveling magic though, and even that required shadows to help her focus and had a limited range. It simply wasn’t her strong suit. And travel far enough or rough enough tended to affect her poorly. It was better to close her eyes and hope for the best, usually.

She knew it was a bad idea to have him entirely in charge of their travel. She wasn’t immune to his tricks and half the time they ended up somewhere she wouldn’t have chosen. It was also possible he was just going to leave her somewhere one day, either from malice or forgetfulness. She just hoped it was somewhere pleasant and that he thought to retrieve her eventually.

Everything seemed to tilt, even with her eyes closed, then she felt grass under her feet and risked opening her eyes to find them in the middle of a park or field. No rioting. No city on fire. She blew out a breath she’d been holding. “For future reference, agreeing that the king’s advisor looks a bit shifty is not code for ‘Yes, darling, by all means, start a coup.’ I-Oh-” She lurched away from him a little, riding a wave of dizziness.

He caught her arm. “Are you all right?”

She waved a hand, counting three long breaths before she was sure she wasn’t about to vomit. When she straightened he was looking at her with a blend of concern and exasperation, an expression only Loki could properly pull off. “I’m fine,” she said, a little defensive.

“It’s been two years, you should really have adjusted to moving between the realms by now.”

“I will inform my nervous and digestive systems of your disapproval.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “As well as my inner ear.” He hovered while she collected herself. When she was no longer light headed or nauseous she looked around again, hugging herself against the chill in the air. While it had been the dead of night in the last realm it was either dawn or dusk here and on the cusp of a cold season. The grass was green and damp, ruling out several places she knew of. Only one sun was on the horizon. It smelled faintly familiar but not of Alfheim or Asgard. “Where are we?”

“Midgard,” he said, still watching her.

She blew out a breath. “Again?” She closed her eyes and carefully transformed the night dress she was wearing into Earth appropriate clothing. Black slacks, a dark green sweater and black leather jacket and boots. When she opened her eyes she found him already in his usual suit. Changing clothes had been one of the first things he’d taught her when they started traveling. She was only slightly better at it then she was with realm jumping. She had a finite number of outfits she could conjure up, much preferring to change clothes the old fashioned way when circumstances permitted. He was little better at it and tended to wear his leathers whenever appropriate.

Currently he was regarding her outfit with something close to a pout. “No dress?”

“It’s cold. You first.” She left her hair down but ran her fingers through it to tame some of the sleep snarls she was sure had gathered. “This is the fourth visit to Earth in three months. I would think you’d want to avoid a planet where you were wanted as a war criminal.”

He shrugged easily, watching her fiddle with her hair. “There’s a new production of Macbeth on Broadway.”

Syn groaned and dropped her hands, shaking her head. “Not just Earth but New York.” She checked her outfit for any mistakes and ran a thumb over the little bronze ring she wore on her left hand. “MacBeth is the one about regicide, isn’t it?” He nodded and she shook her head in exasperation. “Why am I not surprised?”

He reached out and tugged a lock of her hair, winding it around his fingers to draw her closer. “You might like it. His lady is quite formidable.”

His voice had gone low and raspy in a way that always made her shiver. She let him pull her to him, bracing her hand on his hip. “Oh, is she?”

“Indeed. Forthright. Cunning.” He bent his head dropping a kiss on her jaw, then her throat. “Pushes him forward in his plans and schemes.”

She titled her head to the side, giving him better access to her skin. “Does she go mad?” she murmured.

He paused. “Yes.”

She rolled her eyes even as he proceeded to nuzzle under the collar of her jacket, finding the spot where her shoulder met her throat. “Of course she does.”

She felt the graze of teeth on her skin. “There’s witches.”

“Mmm, well.” She closed her eyes, leaning into him. “Now you’ve my attention.”

The hand not tangled in her hair flattened on her back, pressing her against him. The world seemed to tilt again and her eyes flew open to find them in a hotel suite. She felt his smile against her neck. “You were just distracting me?” she asked incredulously.

“You always tense when we travel. I thought if you were relaxed it might help.” He raised his head, studying her. “Are you ill?”

She frowned, waiting for the usual reaction. “No,” she finally admitted.

He released her hair to stroke her throat. “Then it worked.” He used a finger to tip her chin up so he could kiss her.

Two years in and his kisses still made her toes curl like a school girl. His hand was cool on her skin but his mouth was always warm. He brought his other hand up, cupping her face as he deepened the kiss, drawing her lower lip between his teeth. Loki, she had discovered, was not one for casual acts of affection. When he kissed her he _kissed_ her, with his full and utter attention. It meant he occasionally neglected her while deep in his machinations. But when he was finished he more then made up for it.

“Where are we?” she murmured when he lifted his head.

“I arranged for the room when it became apparent our previous accommodations were becoming unstable. Midgardian technology is not entirely immune to my magic.”

“Created yourself a bank account, have you?”

“A very large one,” he assured her, lowering his mouth to hers again.

There was something to be said for that rush of adrenaline after a chase. The reckless energy that came when one was out of immediate danger. There was also something to be said for magic clothes that could melt away at a thought, leaving them both bare and eager to explore.

She sometimes forgot how much stronger he was then her. She’d heard it said Jotun could break rocks with their bare hands though she’d never had occasion to test the rumor. He never seemed to forget, though. His fragile Alfan. He was gentle with her in ways most people wouldn’t have thought him capable of. It was never overt and generally masked by an air of casual indifference. But it was there, every time he touched her or lifted her or managed to protect her from injury in one of their escapades. He cared for her with a caution that was contrary to his nature.

But sometimes he forgot himself. When his blood was running hot and passions were high his hands lost a little of their caution. Tonight was one of those nights. He clutched at her and kissed her with an urgency she didn’t understand but reveled in. His fingers left bruises on her hips and thighs and when he came he bit her shoulder but by that point she was well past caring.

She curled against his side afterwards, drifting towards sleep as he played with her hair, carefully tugging out new tangles. Sometimes she thought it would make life easier if she cut it shorter but she didn’t think he’d ever forgive her. His fingers brushed the shoulder he’d bit and she flinched a little, rousing. He gathered her hair up so he could see. “I bruised you.” His tone was carefully neutral, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it.

“Mmm, you were a bit distracted at the time.”

His hand cupped the wound and she felt the chill of his magic. He was as rubbish at healing as she was at teleporting, but he could heal her if she lent him a little of her power. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered for such a small injury but the bruise seemed to bother him so she shifted enough to cover his hand with hers and help him. There was a brief flare of pain then he stroked his thumb over undamaged skin. “You should tell me when I do that.”

She cracked an eye open to look at him. “I defy you to find someone who will stop a consensual round of sex to inform their lover they’re being a mite too passionate.” He flashed a smile and she resettled. “It didn’t hurt at the time. Don’t fuss.”

He went back to playing with her hair. “Still. I should take you shopping. To make up for it. Perhaps a new dress for the theater?”

She smiled sleepily. “If you insist.”

*

Autumn in New York was really quite pleasant. There was a crisp, clean feel to the air that Syn liked. She shrugged her wrap a little tighter around her shoulders as they left the theater the next night, tipping her head back to look at the sky. The lights of the city made stars hard to see, but the sky was clear and black, a thin crescent of moon peeking out between the buildings occasionally.

Loki was silent, one hand on her back to keep her with him as they made their way through the crowd. Their hotel was a short walk so they bypassed the taxi line. When they’d left the worst of the crowd he broke the silence. “You didn’t like it.”

She blew out a breath before looking up at him. “It’s not that. You know the theater unsettles me.” Watching actors was hard on someone who could see when someone was lying. Only the best or maddest actors really believed what they were saying. It made the experience a bit surreal for her.

“You’re quieter then usual. Usually you have some sort of critique.”

She rearranged her wrap again, running her thumb over her ring nervously. She cast about for something to say that wouldn’t start a Discussion with a capital D. She did so try to avoid those. But when she opened her mouth her concerns came out anyway. “Is that what you’d like me to be? Lady Macbeth? _Fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty_?” Lady Macbeth’s actress had been very good and the easiest for her to watch. She’d played the part with the faintest hint of fragility, a woman pushed to her limit by the life she had led. Syn had almost sympathized with her as she lost her mind.

Loki looked unsettled at the question and was quiet for a few minutes before answering. That usually meant she was going to get the truth or a particularly clever lie. “No,” he finally said thoughtfully and it appeared to be the truth. “I don’t think so. Macbeth claims to have ambition but it’s false. He needs the comfort of prophecy and his wife to push him to action. I don’t require the push. It’s far healthier for me to have a hand ready to pull me out of my messes then help push me into them.”

She stared at him. That was, by far, the most insightful thing he’d ever said about himself. He looked a bit discomfited himself, taking his hand off her back as if concerned it was affecting him. They walked in silence a moment while she pondered the best way to respond. Probably wise to lighten the mood. “I’d rather you be like the witches anyway,” she said. “Tricking other people into causing trouble and disappearing when it boils over. _Fair is foul and foul is fair._ ”

He chuckled, relaxing a bit. “They do cause a marvelous amount of trouble, don’t they?”

“And seem to enjoy it all the while.” She tucked her arms around one of his, leaning into him. “Could we see a comedy next time?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise to keep up this posting pace but if I look at this chapter any longer I'll go cross eyed. Enjoy :)

Syn had assumed they would move on once they saw the play. When she brought it up, however, Loki brushed her off, which sent off all manner of alarms in her. Pushing him would do her no good, so she chose to step back and keep any eye on him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy Midgard. She hadn’t thought she would, the first time they visited. The way Loki described it she had expected some violent, barbaric world, not unlike Asgard had once been. She’d been prepared for one brief visit to say she’d seen it and to put it behind them forever. 

Instead she’d fallen in love with the food, the music, the arts. Previously, though, they hadn’t stayed this long; it was dangerous and the glamour they had to keep on him so he wouldn’t be recognized was tiring for them both. A meal and a performance every so often was enough.

This was different, though. not only had they visited several times recently, but they were spending far more time in one place then they had before. It was safer to explore several cities, never staying in once place. They’d seen Paris, London, Sydney and Tokyo. Now, however, she found herself in New York for the fourth night in a row and she had moved from alarmed to extremely suspicious. After two years of traveling with the infamous Trickster her instincts for mischief were finely honed. He was up to something, she knew that to be true the way she often knew the truth of things. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

Part of her, a very small optimistic part she generally ignored, wondered if he might be hoping to run into his brother. It had been seven years give or take since the battle in Asgard. She didn’t imagine the reunion would end in anything other then a fist fight that would take out half a city block. But that seemed to be how the two of them expressed affection, so who was she to judge? Still, if that was his aim Thor wasn’t exactly hard to find. Loki could arrange an accidental meeting if he really wanted one.

What truly concerned her was his mood. It had grown darker and darker the longer they stayed. She was used to him hiding his schemes from her. Even prided herself on being able to figure out what he was up to before he put it all in motion. But never had she seen him grow so grumpy while waiting for his moment. That, more then anything else, unsettled her, made her want to _do_ something. She wished, not for the first time, that he would just tell her what was going on. The fact that he wouldn’t, no matter how gently she prodded him, was a very bad sign. It had been a long, long time since he’d refused to let her in on his plans when she asked. 

She’d come to terms with his need to meddle. To play the trickster. He liked to stir the pot, to see how far he could push someone before they gave in to their urges. It was rarely innocent, his games. But it was usually nothing more then hurrying along something that would have come about anyway. Like the coup he had managed to start on the last world. The government had been rank with corruption and the king had been content to let the people starve. Loki had only had to murmur a few rumors in the right ears before the thing had exploded like the powder keg it was. It would have been nice if they’d gotten out _before_ the explosion but these things were hard to time. She might have preferred him to leave well enough alone so she could have a peaceful, uneventful trip. But she didn’t begrudge him his entertainments as long as they stayed small scale.

This was different. If he was hiding it then he thought she would protest. Talk him out of it. There was a remarkably short list of thing she would automatically try to talk him out of. If whatever had drawn him to Midgard was one of them. . . she needed to figure out what it was. Soon.

All of this was tumbling around in her head as she stepped out of the shower. Tonight was the ballet and he’d promised it was a comedy. Something light. Maybe it would brighten his mood.

She wrapped a towel around herself and went out into the bedroom to find him at the window, glowering down on the dark city. She leaned her shoulder against door frame, watching him a moment. He had taken off his usual coat and jacket, leaving him in shirtsleeves. It was the most relaxed outfit he ever wore on Midgard. He liked imposing clothes, whereas she preferred comfort and ease of movement. He was impervious to temperature, so his designer suit and coat took him from the coldest winter night to the hottest summer day and he felt no difference. They did get some odd looks in the summer, though.

They were both of races that would live millennia, so the handful of years she’d known him shouldn’t have made any difference. Still, sometimes when she looked at him she thought he seemed older. He had done a great deal of living in the eight years since they’d first spoken. He didn’t really talk about the five years he had traveled without her. She knew they had been hard and that old enemies had come to collect on him. The two years together had been far from peaceful. But she liked to think having an ally, someone to watch his back, had made it easier on him.

She tugged her towel closer and crossed the room to stand at his elbow, looking down on New York at night time. It was always thriving, even in the dark. She glanced up at him. “Why are we brooding?”

“I’m not brooding. I don’t brood.”

She smiled and leaned on his shoulder. “We don’t have to stay here. We could go anywhere else you like. Even Alfheim. It’s summer there now, we could stay for the festival.”

She could feel the tension in him, the muscles in his arm taut against her. When he spoke his words were deceptively casual. “And miss the ballet? Perish the thought.” He turned slightly and slid his arms around her, hands cool on her shower warm skin. “Are you sure you’re not the one brooding? Have you finally tired of Midgard’s delights?”

He was answering very carefully, she noticed. He’d learned a few tricks about getting around her truth detection. She added that to the puzzle she was building about his plans. If he cared enough to actively fool her then something was certainly going on. She stretched up on her toes to kiss him. “Not so long as there is gelato left in the realm.”

He smiled, the honest, fond smile that only she saw and that rarely. “Your sweet tooth will be your undoing, dear heart.”

“Only because you abuse my weakness shamelessly.” She touched his cheek lightly, then stepped away. “Very well. If the ballet is that special I’d best get dressed.”

She expected him to turn back to the window, but instead he watched her slip into the new dress he’d bought her, this one dark green with gold accents. It reminded her of the gown he’d given her in Asgard, all those years ago. A dress for a queen. And in his colors. Always in his colors.

She finger combed her hair and gathered in a now ponytail, letting it spill over one shoulder, then sat to slip her shoes on as he shrugged back into his jacket and coat. He helped her with her wrap and put an arm around her waist as they left the room.

The ballet was a lovely, light romance about a man who falls in love with a doll and a woman who tricks him into believing she was the doll come to life. Syn should have known he’d manage to find a comedy that involved trickery. But she enjoyed it far more then she had Macbeth and was still humming some of the music when they left the theater.

“If you start dancing I’m going to pretend to not know you,” he informed her, though he sounded amused.

“I would never,” she assured him, holding his arm. “You’ve seen me sword fight, I’ve no where near the coordination to dance.” While she’d improved with her staff over the years her strengths lay in her wits, taking enemies by surprise, much like him.

“You’d be less likely to hurt yourself, at least.” He was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t name. Affection, indulgence. A longing she really didn’t understand. The ballet had improved his mood some, though she still had no idea what was going on in his head.

They walked in silence until they reached the hotel. She leaned against the wall of the elevator, watching him. “What is going on?” she finally asked softly.

He barely glanced at her. “Nothing.” 

Shadows flickered across his face and she sighed. “I don’t know why you continue to lie to me when you _know_ I can tell.”

This time he did look at her. “Sometimes you let me get away with it.”

The doors slid open and she pushed off, sauntering through. “Sometimes.” She heard him stalking behind her down the hallway. “Sometimes I’m curious as to what you’re up to.” She turned at the door and gave him a grin as he reached her. “It’s like a puzzle.”

He loomed over her, his knife’s blade smile on. It was funny, she’d been terrified of that smile in the beginning. Now she associated it with . . . very positive things. “Really,” he said quietly. “Any theories on the current puzzle?”

“Not enough information,” she told him. “Give me time.”

He reached past her, unlocking the door. “All the time you need, dear heart.”

The door opened behind her and she stepped backwards into the room, Loki crowding her. She was halfway to the bed before she realized something was wrong and stopped short. He frowned in confusion, stopping too. Before he could ask her what was wrong a voice came from behind him. 

“Tell me, are you the ant or the boot right now?”

Loki straightened slowly and turned, his proper suit melting away into his leathers. She watched his smile change slightly and realized for the first time that _her_ knife blade smile was different from the real one. “Commander Fury,” he said brightly, as if the man in the black body armor and eye patch was an old friend. “This is a surprise,” he added in a far more dangerous tone.

“Right. I’m sure you had no idea walking around the streets of New York would attract our attention.”

Loki had positioned himself between her and the one-eyed man. She scanned the room, spotting two more men with guns flanking them. Instinct told her there must be at least one or two behind them as well. Not that many, given they both had magic and she could heal them. Either she was missing something or the humans had greatly underestimated them.

Loki was still taunting the man he’d called Fury. “I’m more impressed with your speed. We’ve barely been here four days. And this is only our third visit this year. Not very on top of things, are you?”

Fury shrugged with deceptive ease. “We may take our time. But it just means when we finally hit, we hit hard.”

Well, if that was a threat if she’d ever heard on. Time to start fighting then. She gathered up her magic, feeling the heat in her palms. Before she could use it to take out one of the guards something cold and hard dug painfully into her spine. She made a little noise and glanced behind her to see a petite red haired woman in black pressing a pistol into her back. She offered an almost apologetic shrug when Syn looked at her.

“Our intel indicates your . . . friend here isn’t Asgardian.” Syn looked over to find Fury looking almost smug. “So if Agent Romanov blows a hole in her gut I’m guessing she’ll feel it.” He paused to let that sink in. “I suppose it’s possible you don’t care if that happens. But I’m betting you’re going to come along quietly.”

Syn had rarely seen Loki actually angry. He tried to hide emotion from his enemies behind a cool veneer. Emotion meant he’d lost control and loss of control was the beginning of defeat. But when he looked from her and Romanov back to Fury she saw actual, honest _rage_ on his face. She was afraid for a moment he was going to attack the other man with his bare hands.

She knew only some of what he’d done here. He didn’t like speaking of it, for obvious reasons and rumors in Asgard after his return had been varied and embellished. But she had some idea. Enough to know what the humans would likely do to him. When he looked at her again she gave a little shake of her head. _Go_ , she mouthed. _Just go._ She couldn’t teleport very far and needed shadows and movement to focus it. He could escape easily. There was even a chance he’d come back for her later.

Instead he held his hands out in front of him, ready to be shackled. Fury stepped forward and clicked large metal cuffs around his wrists. When one of the other men came towards Syn to lock similar ones on her he spoke. “Wait.” Everyone in the room froze. “She has nothing to do with this.”

There was a pause a few heartbeats long while Syn stared at Loki and the guards stared at Fury. Finally he shook his head. “I’m afraid anyone connected to you has a great deal to do with this.” She saw Loki’s jaw tighten as the man with the cuffs stepped forward and looked at her expectantly. Romanov prodded with the gun and Syn held her arms out. The shackles latched with an audible click.


	3. Chapter 3

A few minutes later she found herself on a small transport plane, taking off from the roof of the hotel. She was still in her evening gown, but she’d kicked her shoes off before they boarded the plane. Heels and metal grate floors didn’t mix. 

She sat quietly while they took off. Loki was on her left, with agents surrounding them. Fury and Romanov were in the front with the woman piloting. Someone had put a muzzle on Loki but not her. She studied him long enough he arched a questioning brow at her. “When we get out of this do you think they’d let me keep that?” she asked him with a sly smile. With him gagged she figured it was her job to keep the humans off balance. At least until a better plan came along. Pretending she was completely unconcerned with her current circumstances seemed as good a strategy as any.

He glared at her but she thought she heart Romanov snort in laughter. Syn lifted her hands to inspect the cuffs they’d put on her. Metal, but one she didn’t recognize, heavy for their size and connected by a straight, solid bar instead of chain. Just a little too big for her, too. Probably intended as back up for Loki. She could twist and wiggle her wrists a bit but not tug them out. 

“What are you doing?” Fury had gotten out of the co pilot’s seat to stand in front of them, slightly bent to accommodate the plane’s low ceiling.

“Trying to figure out how they’re dampening my magic.” She could feel the power gathering in her shoulders and arms but when she tried to let it go it only built up more. Pressure in a corked bottle. She caught a glimpse of a pattern on the inside of the cuff and tilted it to get a better look. “Are those warding runes? I haven’t seen those since I was a child.”

“It’s circuitry. Causes a small electro magnetic pulse that short circuits your abilities.”

Syn rolled her eyes. “You people are so dull. You have to explain everything.” She took one more look before letting her hands drop in her lap. “Looks like warding runes to me.”

Loki’s eyes were crinkling but Fury look far less amused. “What should we call you?”

“Syn. Of Alfheim. At your service.”

“And what are you to him?” This with a point at Loki.

She glanced at Loki and he rolled his eyes at her incredulous look. She faced Fury again. “If you think _really hard_ I’m confident you can figure it out.”

“You’re not taking us seriously, are you?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. But if you were going to kill me you’d have done it already. You want us for something. Or more precisely you want _him_ for something.” She jerked her head towards Loki. “And you think I’m good leverage. So, as long as I don’t make myself a threat I’m safe until you get whatever you want from him. I’m rather harmless right now.” She lifted her cuffed hands. “So I think I’m fairly safe.”

Fury glowered at her a moment, then shook his head, heading back to the front of the plane, muttering, “Should’ve gagged her, too.”

*

The small plane took them to a much larger plane. Well, plane probably wasn’t the correct word for the thing but she thought electro magnetic circuits were runes so what did she know? The agents surrounded them again, prickling with weapons, and ushered them through the metal halls. They passed what looked like labs, some open and windowed some locked up tight. When they came to a T intersection they took Loki one way and separated her to the other. He didn’t react so she tried not to either but panic flashed through her. Bravado sitting next to him was one thing. She was not actually accustomed to being held captive.

Syn didn’t see where he was taken. She was brought to a small office and strongly encouraged to sit in a surprisingly comfortable desk chair. Fury took a spot across from her and two agents plus Romanov took their places on the wall behind her. Syn scanned the room but found nothing of interest. So she pasted on an innocently curious expression and folded her hands in her lap.

Fury studied her for a moment that stretched past the point of comfort. She was starting to get concerned this was just going to be a staring contest when he spoke. “Syn of Alfheim. Never heard of Alfheim.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Small realm. Agricultural. Long winters and mild summers. I was a princess there but that was a very long time ago.”

“What are you doing on Earth?”

She flashed a grin. “Best gelato in the realms.”

“Guessing your boyfriend isn’t here for the desserts.”

“I honestly have no idea why he’s here. He said he wanted to see a play.”

The brow over his good eye arched. “I find that harder to believe then gelato.”

“He likes Shakespeare.”

Fury leaned forward, hands folded on his desk. “He thinks he’s better then us.”

She hadn’t realized how much she used her hands until they were cuffed. She managed another half shrug. “Well, Loki looks down on everyone, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

He sighed. “You see us as ants, too?”

She arched her brows. “Humans? No, not ants. I see you as children.”

He rubbed his forehead. “That’s much better.”

Syn sat up a bit. “Oh, it wasn’t intended as an insult.” He looked skeptical. “You’re very young,” she said gently, trying to explain. “We live millennia. You’re lucky to make a century. From my perspective you’ve only been out of caves a generation or two. But you’ve such potential. Such drive. I love this place. I’d visit all the time but, well, we’re not exactly welcome.” The last was said in a conspiratorial stage whisper.

“Do you have any idea what that man did here?” His voice had gone low and threatening. The shift unsettled her a little. Behind her on the left she noticed Romanov straighten.

Syn tilted her head, now alert, teasing gone. “I have some idea, yes.”

“Doesn’t bother you the guy you’re sleeping with is a mass murderer?”

Someday she would be able to stop defending her relationship to everyone. Maybe in a few more centuries. “Asgard is full of what you’d call mass murderers. You work with Thor and I promise you he’s lead an army or two. Loki didn’t do anything that hasn’t been done across the realms a hundred times. You’re just angry he was the first one to do it here.” She flashed her dangerous smile. “At least, the first non human to do it. I’ve read your history books, Commander. Conquest is a bit of a past time on this planet as well.”

“Ghengis Khan didn’t have aliens with lasers.”

“And the Mongols didn’t have the Avengers,” she replied softly and noticed the slight flinch he gave. She smiled again. “You won. You let Thor take him to Asgard for punishment and forfeited your right to do so. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

“Move on? Move _on_? He destroyed several blocks of New York, brought alien attention to Earth.”

“You know, the rest of the realms have known about each other for centuries. Your time was coming with or without Loki. In no small part thanks to you and your agency.” She studied him, watching the darkness of a thousand secrets flicker across his face. “And you know that. Every day. Which is why you try so hard to blame it on Loki.”

Fury stood suddenly, leaning over the desk like he wanted to come across it at her. “A good friend and better agent is _dead_ because of him.”

Syn frowned as a very dark shadow covered his face. “What a strange thing to lie about,” she said softly.

He froze, the anger pouring out of him, replaced with shock. “Get her out of here,” he gritted out. Romanov and one of the other agents grabbed her by the arms and hauled her out of her seat.

*

Her cell was fairly comfortable. Mattress on the floor. Padded walls. Camera in one corner of the ceiling. No handle on the door. She paced for a little bit, then settled on the mattress, back to the wall. She tried to flex her magic, blow her cuffs off. The power gathered and heated up in her shoulders but it didn’t go anywhere. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head back. She listened to the hum of the engines, vibrating the wall she leaned against. They were going somewhere and going there fast, if she wasn’t mistaken.

She wished she could see Loki. Maybe now he’d tell her what in the world he was up to. She still didn’t have enough information to know but she did have some new pieces for her puzzle. Now she knew it was big enough to have SHIELD involved. If SHIELD had connected it to Loki it meant something alien in origin. Wards not circuits. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to increase her worry to record breaking levels.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, half meditating as she tried to make the few puzzle pieces she had fit together in some reasonable way. She may have dozed a little, lulled by the hum of the airplane. Eventually her door opened and she cracked one eye to see Agent Romanov enter with a small tray of food. She noticed Syn watching her and raised it a little. “You eat, right?”

“Yes.” She watched the redhead close the door behind her and walk a few steps closer, leaving the tray next to the mattress. “Thank you.”

Romanov stepped back, putting her back on the opposite wall from Syn. “Do you need anything?”

Syn closed her eyes, leaning her head back again. She raised her cuffed hands. “Key?”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Hostage, then.”

“You’re an unknown variable. It was logical to contain you.”

Syn smiled. “Unknown variable. I like that.”

“That’s what Fury thinks, anyway. I don’t think you’re that unknown. I just don’t understand what you’re doing with someone like Loki. You don’t really give off a genocidal maniac vibe.”

Syn chuckled and opened her eyes. “No offense, Agent Romanov. I have no doubt you’re very, very good at this. But I share a bed with a man known in several realms as The Trickster. I can generally tell when I’m being played.” She saw the quick flicker of reaction on the other woman’s face but it was too brief and subtle to read. “If you have questions just ask. I couldn’t lie if I wanted to.”

A head tilt. “You can’t lie?”

Apparently their intel on her wasn’t that complete. Of course, Fury hadn’t even know her name. She was starting to think that blow a hole in her gut threat had been a bluff. “Not without rather dire consequences. It’s a family curse. I tell the truth. And I know when others are lying.”

“Those cuffs are supposed to block your magic.”

“It’s not magic. At least not in the way you mean. It’s me. In my skin and blood. The ability to do magic is innate but it must be trained. Harnessed and focused. The truth is just who I am. An enemy could bind your arms and legs in an attempt to restrain you, but you’d still have your senses. Be able to think. It’s the same with me.”

Romanov stared, arms crossed, pose deceptively casual as she leaned on the wall. “You and him make even less sense now.”

Syn laughed and for perhaps the first time since they’d been captured it was genuine amusement. “What is that saying you have here? Opposites attract?”

It was impressive how still the other woman stood. The name Black Widow suited her, she was a still as a spider in a web. “So when you accused Fury of lying you really meant it. You knew he was lying.”

“I did, yes. I saw it. Your commander is dripping with lies and secrets.” Romanov’s lack of reaction was very deliberate. “But you knew that. You just didn’t know about that _specific_ one. Yet you follow him anyway.” Syn shifted, rolling stiffness out of her shoulders. “At least I have the excuse of being in love with my liar.”

Her voice was clipped when she responded. “Fury’s a spy. If he keeps secrets it’s for a good reason.”

Syn shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I only know he has them, not what they are.”

“Do you know what Loki is planning?”

She opened her eyes again. Finally, they were getting to the meat of the matter. “No. I don’t. Whatever he’s hiding he’s hiding it from me as well. Which should concern you greatly.”

“Why?”

“I’m the closest thing to a conscience he has. If he doesn’t want me to know he thinks I’ll try to stop him.”

Romanov leaned forward. “Would you?”

“I have in the past, when I felt he was going too far. You’re right, I’m not like him. I don’t have his ambitions.” She flashed a grin. “You see, Agent, we are on the same side. I just don’t know what I’m fighting yet.” She leaned forward a little. “What do _you_ think he’s up to?”

Romanov seemed to mull it over a moment, glancing up at the corner where the camera sat. Finally she just shook her head slightly.

Syn sighed and leaned back again, resettling. “Then I don’t know what else we have to say to each other.” She closed her eyes. “Thank you for the meal.”

There was a few heartbeats of silence. Then the sound of the door opening and Romanov’s quiet step as she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've discovered in editing this story that writing can be like cooking. Tweaking the original dish is fine, but if you go too far it ends up overcooked and too salty. I've been working on restraint. I don't know why I find Fury, of all people, difficult to write for, but I do. For the duration assume any scene with him in it involved multiple versions and me pulling my hair out.
> 
> I do like Romanov, though and am happy with her and Syn's dynamic. So there's that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my new proof-reader/beta SweetTeaFrances. She is awesome and amazing and endlessly patient in my inability to use a comma correctly.

Syn’s meditative state didn’t last very long. She nibbled at the meal Romanov had brought her, then got to her feet, pacing the length of her cell. Her evening gown, so elegant at the beginning of the night, had grown rumpled and creased. Still, the feel of it swirling around her legs as she walked made her feel like a gothic heroine. It would be almost romantic if she wasn’t so worried. 

This plane was going somewhere. It was taking her and Loki to something. They’d been in the air at least a few hours now, which ruled out the east coast of the US but little else. They could be headed to Europe or Asia or even just the west coast. She had no idea what was going to happen when they landed but she feared her usefulness would come to an end soon after.

She heard loud, clomping footsteps in the hall outside her room and hurried away from the door, knowing it was Fury before he entered. She positioned herself very carefully in view of the camera but as far from him and the door as she could. He had two guards with him and they stepped forward without a word and each grabbed one of her arms, dragging her forward and out of the cell. Fury lead them down the hall, back the way she had come. They kept a quick pace and she was glad she’d left her shoes behind or she would certainly have stumbled. 

Something was _wrong_.

She didn’t know Fury. Suspected she wouldn’t like him much if she did. But she knew instantly and intently that something was off with him. Loki sometimes claimed she had a gift for premonition, which she scoffed at. What she had was good instincts and a gift with puzzles, thanks to her truth curse. She could put clues together without even realizing she had noticed them. It was actually part of why she didn’t mind Loki and his schemes. It gave her brain something to do. 

Right now, her instincts were telling her Fury was not acting like himself. If she looked closely she could almost see something like a film or an aura around him that she was quite certain no one else could see. The way they were marching her along felt like a trip to an execution. The gun she saw under his arm did nothing for her nerves.

He stopped at a set of wide metal doors that required a passcode to open. He took hold of her and left the guards outside as he walked in, the heavy doors closing behind them. The center of the room was taken up by a cell made of what looked like clear plastic. Loki stood in the center of it, still handcuffed. She saw a flicker of concern cross his face when he saw them.

 Fury hauled her past a wide control panel and picked up what looked like a remote control. Then he dragged her forward to stand in front of Loki’s cell. “You need to start telling me what you know,” he told Loki in a sharp voice that seemed to echo in the large room. She could see how he had gotten as far as he had in SHIELD. Had she actually known anything, she’d have felt quite compelled to tell him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Loki said smoothly, shadows dancing on his face.

Fury released her and took a step back before hitting a button on the remote. A trap door opened in front of her and she danced back, coming up hard against the railing around the control panel. Wind howled through the opening, whipping her skirts and hair. She cast a panicked glance at Loki, who had stepped to the front of his cage.

Fury looked at her. “Do you have anything to say?” he asked, voice raised over the wind.

“I don’t know anything,” she said, eyeing the hole in the floor. “Believe me, I don’t want him causing trouble anymore than you.”

“Three hours ago, you were defending him.”

“Defending past actions is not the same as encouraging future ones. Please, if you tell me what you’re afraid of I can-”

“I’m not telling you a goddamned thing!” He pushed a button on the remote and the hole widened. She pressed as tight as she could to the railing, toes now at the edge.

“Fury,” Loki called from his cell. “Threatening innocents isn’t your style. Stop this.”

“See, the part I’m having trouble with is her being an innocent. Something called guilt by association.” He waggled the remote. “Either you start talking or she starts falling.”

She bit her tongue but cast Loki a pleading look. She couldn’t read his expression but it did nothing to reassure her. “If you hurt her I will _destroy_ you,” he snarled.

 There was that rage again. It was flattering but so unlike him. Just as threatening her seemed out of character for Fury. The realms held any number of people and things that could influence others. Loki had wielded one when he tried to conquer Midgard. Whatever they were fighting over, whatever they were flying towards, was apparently another. She needed to snap at least one of them out of it if she wanted to avoid being collateral damage in a magically influenced pissing match.

“You’re acting irrationally,” she said to Fury as calmly as she could manage. “This isn’t you. Try to think.”

“What I think is that you are holding out on me.” He barely glanced at her, his entire attention on Loki. Were it not for the remote he still held, she might have thought he’d forgotten her existence. “And _you_ need to think very hard about what you say next or things could start going very, very bad for you.”

Loki’s jaw tightened but he stayed silent. Syn looked from him to the opening in the floor to her cuffs. Maybe if she broke her wrist she could wiggle-

The door slammed open and Fury whirled to face the newcomer. Romanov stood in the doorway, just a tad out of breath. “You’re needed on the bridge,” she said to Fury, voice neutral.

Fury tossed one last dark look at Loki before storming past Romanov, shoving the remote into her hands. “Get her back to her cell,” he ordered before stalking out the door. Syn and the other woman exchanged a look in which she tried to convey exactly how screwed they were. Romanov gave her a little nod, hitting a button on the remote that closed the trapdoor. Syn sagged in relief and offered no protest when Romanov took her arm. She glanced at Loki as she was lead away but his expression was still unreadable.

Romanov didn’t say a word as she lead her down the hallway and back to her cell. She opened the door and gestured, as if Syn was a guest she was allowing to go first. She didn’t think she had ever been so happy to be imprisoned in a small windowless room. The door closed with a quiet click and Syn let herself slide slowly down the wall, shaking. Bad. This was very, very bad.

When the shaking stopped, she started trying to get her shackles off in earnest. She didn’t think there was much chance of it working as she wasn’t really keen on the idea of breaking bones, but it was better than just sitting there and waiting.

She was so distracted she didn’t hear Romanov return until she opened the door again, though it was possible she wouldn’t have even if she’d been listening. The female agent moved like a cat. Syn stood as the other woman entered. Romanov strode towards her without a word and grabbed the bar between Syn’s cuffs, dragging her out of the room and down the hall. Syn actually had to hustle a bit to keep up with the smaller woman.

“Three months ago, a weird energy signature spiked in the middle of nowhere in Alaska,” Romanov said in a quiet, urgent voice. “Alien in origin but nothing we’ve seen before. And we’ve actually seen quite a bit lately. First team that went in never came back. The second team came back but individual reports of what it was varied dramatically. Then Fury went out. Set up a perimeter, no one allowed to pass it but him. He’s been acting nuts ever since, obsessed with finding Loki.” She dragged Syn around a corner. “We land at the perimeter in half an hour. You have until then to help me figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Sounds like fun.” Three months was when Loki had started coming back to Earth more frequently. They hadn’t gone anywhere near Alaska, but this thing obviously had very good range. Romanov pulled her into one of the closed off labs, locked the door behind them and went to a work station, bringing up a bunch of hologram screens with various squiggly lines and numbers on them. Syn arched a brow. “What is this?”

“The readings from the anomaly.”

Syn held up her wrists, rattling the magic dampening cuffs. “Warding runes, not electro magnets. I know magic here is reduced to science and numbers but where I’m from it’s organic. Instinctual.” Romanov scrunched her face up in a rather adorable mask of frustration. Syn blew out a breath, glancing around at the screens. “Do you have an image of it? Video?”

The redhead nodded and her fingers flickered over the workstation. One of the hologram screens in front of Syn changed from a read out to a video of what looked like a portal. It was a sickly blend of red and purple, like an angry bruise on a snowy landscape. The colors swirled and flickered in the portal, the video looping every thirty seconds or so. It might have been mesmerizing if she hadn’t felt so immediately and completely repelled by it.

She looked over at Romanov. “You said the second team’s reports differed. What did they say it was?”

More finger flicking and she brought up a series of reports. “One said it was like an oasis, with a clear lake. Another said it was a farm house. A third didn’t see anything, just heard music.”

“And Fury?”

“He thinks it’s a weapon, something Loki is after. He wants him to show him how it works.”

“I’m sure that’s what Loki thinks it is, too,” Syn muttered. A tiny knot of dread started to form in her stomach. “What do you see?” she asked softly.

Romanov looked uncomfortable. “Snow.”

“It’s surrounded by snow.”

She shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I know I just. . . different snow. Snow like there used to be at home. When I was young.”

The knot grew a little bigger. Syn stared at the image of the portal. “Is there audio?” she asked hoarsely.

Romanov tapped the screen and the room filled with noise. It was almost indescribable. There was screaming. Crying. Wailing that sent ice down Syn’s spine. Had her hands not been shackled she’d have slapped them over her ears. Romanov seemed confused but not horrified. Syn had to lean over and tap the screen herself to turn it off. “What did you hear?” she asked the agent.

She tilted her head, expression a blend of confusion and fear, like she had just started to realize how _wrong_ this thing was. “Laughter. Children laughing.”

Syn shook her head slowly. “You cannot land this plane near that thing. You can’t bring Loki to it.”

“What is it?” Romanov demanded.

“It’s a portal. It makes people see and hear what it wants to lure them closer so they get sucked in. But illusions don’t work on me, I see it for what it is.” She paced, hands twisting idly in the cuffs. “Right now, for whatever reason, it wants Loki to come to it. Enough to influence your commander to bring him to it. I’ve never heard of one that went after a specific person.”

The other woman had grown considerably paler as she spoke. “Where is it a portal to?”

“What the _HELL_ is she doing in here?”

They both turned to see Fury in the doorway, looking ready to kill. “You cannot take Loki to this thing,” Syn told him, hoping the power of her truth would somehow break the influence on him.

“I can take him wherever I damn well please. He knows what it does and for once I’m getting my hands on alien technology _before_ it blows up in our face.”

“How does it make sense to bring him to something you think is a weapon? All you’ve done is increase the likelihood of him using it himself.”

For a moment she saw his face clear and that red aura (which she now realized was very similar to the color of the portal) seemed to flicker and fade. Even as she felt a thrill of hope that she’d gotten through to him, the aura flared back to life and he reached for his gun.

Romanov _moved_. Faster than Syn would have thought a human capable. She caught his wrist before he could get his gun out and slammed him back into the door jamb. Confident she wasn’t in immediate danger of being shot, Syn turned and slammed her hand into the corner of the work station, feeling the bones in her hand shatter. The pain almost dropped her but she grit her teeth. Desperate times. A second slam snapped her thumb and she bent, braced her bare foot on the bar between the shackles and yanked her injured hand out as hard as she could. Her broken bones ground together and she lost a chunk of skin but her hand came free.

Repressed magic flooded her, sending the other half of the shackle flying and healing her hand with scarcely a thought. Her evening gown melted and morphed into her own set of black and green leather armor, her staff materializing in her hand as she walked for the shadowiest corner of the room.

Romanov was still in the middle of subduing Fury but called out, “The code for his door is-”

“Thank you, don’t need it,” she called back as she disappeared into the shadows.

She reappeared in the large room that held Loki. Two armed men flanked the control panel. Their guns came up when she appeared and she twirled her staff, slamming both weapons out of their hands. She sent one out into the hallway with a blast of magic and caught the other by the throat, skin to skin so he couldn’t lie. “Which button opens the cell?” she asked, pointing to the control panel.

“Big green one on the left,” he gasped.

“Thank you.” She tossed him through the shadows as well and conjured a barrier in front of the door to keep them out.

Loki was watching her with a look that would have heated her blood any other time. “This is an unanticipated but very welcome turn of events,” he said as she reached the control panel.

“I know about the anomaly in Alaska,” she said quietly, resting one hand on the console. He froze, smile slowly melting off his face. “I have one question before I decide if I’m letting you out or not.” She was fairly confident Romanov had Fury under control. In theory she could get the whole plane turned around, buying them time. But her instincts told her to get Loki as far from the humans as possible.

“What is it?” he asked, voice growing raspy and dark.

“Did you surrender so they would bring you to the anomaly? Or did you do it because they threatened me?”

He was quiet a long moment and she waited to see if she was going to get the truth or a clever lie. “I had planned to put on a show,” he said finally, face clear of lies. “I went quietly because they threatened you.”

She nodded slowly and pressed the green button, causing the doors of the cell to slide open. She strode across the room to meet him as he stepped out. “We need to talk,” she said when she reached him.

He held up his hands and she blasted the cuffs off his wrists, sending them skidding across the floor. He grinned his trickster grin and curled his hand around her throat. “Agreed. But I think a little privacy is in order.” He tugged her close enough to kiss and as she closed her eyes, the room tilted and swirled away from them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks and warm fuzzies to my beta SweetTea for the edits amd comments. You're awesome.

The cold hit her first and she gasped, opening her eyes to find them outside on a field of snow. Her armor was far simpler than his, with thicker leather and more metal to account for her relative fragility. It didn’t have a coat, either, leaving her arms bare and free to move, with only small leather half gloves protecting her palms from the friction of her staff. It was a practical design until one found oneself in the Alaskan wilderness.

Her cloak materialized around her shoulders before she could take a second breath and she used her free hand to hold it closed, keeping the warmth in. She looked up at him. “This is what you meant by privacy?”

“There’s no one else here, is there? Come on. It’s this way.” He picked a direction and started hiking through the calf deep drifts. Syn had no choice but to follow after him, hopping a bit to put her feet in the path he’d left. “I apologize for leaving you in the dark,” he said over his shoulder. “I felt the less you knew the better, especially once SHIELD was involved.”

“Why was SHIELD involved anyway? Why couldn’t you just come here instead of making a spectacle of yourself in New York hoping to be captured? And wasn’t that the plan you used _last_ time you tangled with them?”

“Imagine my utter lack of surprise that they fell for it again. As for why I needed them, they put up one of their dampening fields before I could get a good lock on where the weapon was. I didn’t fancy hiking blindly through the tundra looking for it.”

“Loki, it isn’t a weapon.”

He stopped and turned to look at her. “What?”

She leaned on her staff, huddling under her cloak. “Agent Romanov showed me footage of this thing. It isn’t what you think it is.”

“Is that how you managed our escape, getting on Romanov’s good side?” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m impressed.” He turned and started hiking again.

She groaned and hurried after him again, using her staff as a walking stick. “You aren’t listening to me. You think you’re heading to a weapon but you’re wrong. It’s a portal. And it’s drawing you here. It used Fury and it must be calling to you now. That’s how you know which direction to go.”

He ignored her, not even glancing back. Or maybe he didn’t hear her at all. The wind changed and she could hear the sound of wailing and shrieking, just like on the footage of the portal Romanov had shown her. His pace quickened and as she watched him, stark against the white and grey landscape she thought she saw a faint red aura to him.

Right, think quickly. She would never beat him in a physical fight. She didn’t have enough time to think of a trick. She could _try_ to stall him until the humans got here. If they were still coming. If she were Romanov she’d have turned the plane around as soon as Loki was off it. She was most likely on her own.

They crested a small rise and Loki stopped suddenly. She came up next to him and saw what had caught his attention. The portal was much larger than it had looked in the video, towering almost two stories high. It was difficult for her to look directly at it, the colors swirled sickeningly. She wondered if that was just how it looked or if it was trying to repel her. As if it knew she was trying to keep Loki away from it.

She looked up at him and her heart sank at the look of wonder on his face. She didn’t think he’d ever look at anything with that much longing. Certainly he’d never looked at her that way. She curled her hand around his arm, muscle taut under the cold leather. “Please,” she said softly. “Listen to me. Whatever you’re seeing. . . it isn’t real. It’s a trick.”

His eyes seemed to unfocus a moment, then clear. His brow furrowed with the faintest hint of confusion. Then he shook her hand off and was lost again. “I know you disapprove, dear heart. But the equation hasn’t changed.” He started down the rise, heading towards the portal as if in a trance.

“What equation?”

He barely glanced back. “You versus my ambitions. My ambitions win. Every time.”

Oh, that _hurt_. It had been so long since that had mattered. She’d almost let herself forget. For a moment she almost let the pain and rage overtake her. Screw him and his ambitions and cold heart. Let the portal have him. She could stay here. Settle. Maybe Romanov could get her a job at SHIELD.

Then she looked at the portal, the sickly twisting colors and the sounds of despair. She had a pretty good idea where it was leading him. And she was certain whatever waited on the other side didn’t have his best interests at heart. So, hating him and herself a little bit, she stumbled down the hill towards him. “How can you say that? After two years, how can that still be true?”

“How could you think otherwise?” He tossed a knife’s blade smile over his shoulder. “Did you think your love had changed me?” Mockery colored his tone and she rolled her shoulders as if to physically shake it off.

“Yes, I did. Why shouldn’t it? I’ve certainly changed for you. I’ve been there for every plot and scheme. I’ve never let you down, no matter what trouble you caused.” He was almost there, only a few steps from the portal. Every fiber of her being wanted to run the other way. But she planted her feet and tried one last time. “For someone so obsessed with other people betraying you, you’re very eager to turn your back on me.”

He faltered, stopping in mid step. He turned to her and she braced herself for more hurt. Instead his face cleared and he looked confused, the logic of her statement hitting home. When he glanced back at the portal, the look of wonder was gone, replaced by recognition. And fear. He whirled away from it and took a step towards her, reaching for her with one hand.

 Then the portal seemed to explode outwards, light blazing, stretching and morphing to swallow him up. Syn cried out his name, clutching at his hand, but he was torn away, sucked down into the red and purple blaze. There was a howl that was suddenly more triumph then grief. Then it was gone. The portal, the wail, and Loki, all gone. 

She staggered a step, legs giving out, sending her to her knees in the snow.

*

She expected them to send Romanov.

Well, no, actually she expected them to leave her there alone to find her own long, cold way back to civilization. But barring that, she expected Romanov, possibly with some back up, to come find out what had happened. If she was feeling generous, maybe she’d arrange a ride for Syn to get back to the lower forty eight.

What she did not expect was to see Loki’s brother come striding through the snow towards her in all his Asgardian armored glory.

She’d kneeled in the snow a long time, until she didn’t even feel the cold anymore, before getting up and examining the area as if there might be some clue left behind that would tell her how to get the portal back. That was how Thor found her, pacing in a tight circle of snowless ground, frustrated and helpless.

She stopped when she saw him. He was squinting against the wind, strolling like he didn’t feel the weather. She hugged herself under her cloak, tipping her head back as he reached her. She remembered when she’d met him in Asgard, she’d been afraid of him. Of course, at the time it had been distinctly possible he’d order her execution. Still, after two years of Loki and cobbling together a picture of his childhood with Thor, she had trouble seeing him as anything but an overbearing big brother. “I could have used you an hour ago,” she told him, voice hoarse from the cold and her earlier crying.

“Romanov called me when you left the plane.” He scanned the bare spot they stood in. “Loki’s gone.”

She nodded. “Sucked into a portal despite my best efforts.”

“Do you have any idea where to?”

Syn chewed her lip, wondering if he’d think her mad. “I’m not certain. But I think it was the Realm Below.”

He actually seemed to pale a bit, staring at her. Finally he stepped back and gestured the way he’d come. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

Less than half an hour later, she found herself back on SHIELD’s plane at a conference table of some sort, hands wrapped around a mug of surprisingly decent coffee. Thor sat across from her, silent and thoughtful.

Romanov came in just as Syn felt the lurch and hum of the plane taking off. “Fury is sleeping off his possession in the brig,” Romanov said, taking a seat a few chairs from Syn. “I’ll let him out when I’m sure he’s not going to court martial me.” She looked expectantly at Syn. “Report.”

She gave them a short, halting account of what happened on the snow. “I know you’ve no reason to trust me,” she finished. “But this wasn’t one of his schemes. At the end, just before it took him, he was afraid.” She looked over at Thor. “ _Really_ afraid.”

“And you truly think it was the Tenth Realm,” he rumbled.

“What the hell is that?” Romanov asked, sounding more tired than concerned.

Syn and Thor exchanged a look and he made a little gesture for her to start. Syn looked back at the agent. “The Bifrost connects to nine realms, the branches of the Yggdrasil, the World Tree. There is a legend of a tenth realm, the Realm Below. It sits beneath the roots of the Tree.” She paused and sipped the last of her coffee. “It’s where the monsters come from.”

“No one has ever seen what lives in the Realm Below,” Thor continued. “All we have are legends. Mostly about people who find themselves lost, transported to the Realm without knowing how.”

“There’s legends like that all over,” Syn said. “Even Midgard has some.” She looked at Romanov. “A man with a pipe who steals the children of a town after the elders cheat him?”

“The pied piper, yeah. That’s what you think this was?”

“I can’t be sure. But it fits the stories. A portal that draws people to it with happy images or music.”

“I’ve never heard of one that called to one person so strongly,” Thor said. “It influenced people to bring Loki to it. It was a trap.”

“Once he was near it, he wouldn’t even listen to me. He always listens to me.” Thor looked skeptical and she shrugged. “He doesn’t always heed me, but he always listens.” She ran a finger along the edge of the table. “There were years he traveled without me. He’s rarely spoken of them. I know he has enemies.”

Romanov slapped the table with both hands, standing up. “Well, good riddance. I’m sure Thor can figure out how to get you wherever you’d like to go.”

“I need to go after him,” Syn said at the same time Thor announced, “We can’t just leave him there.” They looked at each other in surprise. Then, accepting they were on the same side, turned to present a united front to Romanov.

The redhead crossed her arms. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“I can’t make portals,” Syn said. “And the Bifrost doesn’t reach to the Tenth Realm. You people are my best chance of getting there.”

“That is no reason to help you. Loki’s a war criminal here. If he’s now trapped somewhere with no way to get back, then that’s the best news we’ve gotten all year.”

Thor looked ready to start roaring. It was remarkable how much the brothers had in common sometimes. “Had I not helped you,” Syn said calmly before he could make a mess of it. “You would have gone in blind and almost certainly lost more men. Including your commander.” Romanov faltered ever so slightly so Syn pressed on. “A portal to an unknown realm was opened on your planet. It’s certainly not the first time it’s happened and won’t be the last. If you get me there, I can gather intel for you. Possibly guarantee they leave you alone from now on. I believe knowledge is considered power in the spy trade, Agent Romanov. I’m offering you a great deal of power. All you need to do is help me find a way to get to Loki and bring him back.”

Romanov stared at Syn for a few long breaths, as if waiting for her to crumble and change her mind. When she didn’t, the agent sighed and rubbed her forehead. “He’s a killer.”

“This plane is full of killers of one kind or another.” She paused, then added quietly, “Please, Agent Romanov. He’s all I have. Is there no one in your life you would walk through hell for?”

That hit the right nerve. The smaller woman tightened her jaw, then threw her hands up. “Fine, I’ll call Stark.” She stalked out of the room.

Thor was watching her. “I should go with you.”

Syn shook her head slowly. “There’s no way of knowing what state he’ll be in when I find him. You being there will not be a calming influence, to say the least.”

“Still-”

“You have a woman here, yes? A team you work with? People who count on you. I meant what I said. I have no one but Loki. If I can’t find my way back from the Realm, there’s no one who would miss me.” She was surprised at how sad he looked at that. She offered him a smile. “It’s all right,” she said quietly. “He’s enough.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued praise to my beta, SweetTea. :)
> 
> The Realm Below is mentioned in Marvel comics canon, though not Norse mythology as far as I've found. In any case, I have take MASSIVE liberties with the realm and its inhabitants. So you have only my psyche to blame.

“So let me get this straight. Asgardian Mussolini has gotten himself trapped in some sort of mythical hell dimension. And you want me to try to open up a door into said dimension so his girlfriend can go find him, just because said girlfriend asked nicely?”

Romanov shrugged, hands on her hips. “Essentially, yes.”

They had landed in New York ten minutes ago and had been greeted by Stark in his rather impressive penthouse. Romanov had apparently briefed him while they were still in the air and now he was making a show of being outraged at the idea. Syn stood to the side with Thor, watching the humans argue and counting the minutes since Loki had disappeared. Each one weighed on her heavily but she focused on remaining still and calm. Grabbing Stark by the ear and forcing him to do it probably wouldn’t win her any favors.

“We know you’ve been working on realm crossing tech,” Romanov was saying. “We have a full set of readouts from the thing in Alaska. Should be no problem for you to make this happen.”

“I can’t believe Ol’ One Eye is on board with this.”

“Fury was compromised and has not been reinstated. I’m in charge.” She hooked a thumb at Syn. “She helped a bad situation not get any worse. If this is what it takes to wipe that debt clean, then this is what I’m doing.”

“The guy killed Coulson, Nat!”

Romanov’s face went still. “According to her, we might want to ask Fury about that when we get a chance.”

Syn very carefully didn’t look at Thor when he shot a glance her way. She didn’t know who Coulson was, but she was fairly certain he was the “friend” Fury had lied about earlier. Whoever he was, he was a sore point and she was not getting involved.

Stark was silent a moment, then stalked over to her. She saw Thor tense a little as if preparing to protect her. That was. . . remarkably sweet. If she and Loki managed to get out of this mess in one piece, she was going to start pestering him to make amends with his brother.

“Right,” Stark said when he reached her. “She’s got her whole ledger balancing thing. Apparently you’re practically his sister-in-law.” This with a gesture to an entirely nonplussed Thor. “Can you give me one good reason why _I_ should help you?”

She considered a moment, going through everything Loki had ever told her about his dealings on Midgard. There were any number of ways to play this. Reverse psychology. Appeal to his ego. Threats wouldn’t work, that was obvious. Finally she said simply, “You still owe Loki a drink.”

He jerked back in surprise, tilting his head down and to the side. “He talks about me?”

She shrugged. “There’s very few people in the realms Loki has anything resembling respect for. I think you’re the only human I would put on that list.” Okay, so _some_ appeal to ego couldn’t hurt. “You can say no and I’ll just try to find some other way to get there. There has to be someone or something in one of the other realms that will help me and I have a very long time to search. Or you could be the first human to singlehandedly rip through the barrier between the realms. Your choice.”

He stared her down another minute. “Oh, you’re good.” He turned to look at Romanov. “She’s good.” Back to Syn. “No guarantee I can get you back, you know.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

He studied her carefully, though she had no idea what he was searching for. Then he nodded and whirled away from her. “Right, let’s do this.”

*

Three hours later, she stood in the basement of what she had come to realize was Avenger headquarters, watching Stark fiddle with the controls of what honestly looked like a giant ray gun. Thor was eyeing it with the same level of skepticism as her, though she supposed their methods looked just as odd to humans. Still, she had to think Stark had gone a little style over substance with this one.

 Maybe she was just finding fault because she was nervous. Romanov was taking this very seriously; decking Syn out with a survival pack, emergency water supplies, and a SHIELD jacket to replace her impractical cloak. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t need a week of supplies but she had to admit she liked the jacket. 

Stark assured them it was almost ready for the fifth time and she stifled a sigh, rearranging the strap of the survival pack again. It wasn’t that she was losing her nerve, but the anticipation was making her mind race. Thor shifted his weight and she could sense he was going to offer to go with her again. Or worse, instead of her. Thankful for the distraction, she headed him off at the pass. 

“He does love you, you know,” she said conversationally, stopping him short. She pointedly watched Stark as she continued. “He’d never say it. He doesn’t even say it to me. But it’s there.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” he finally said.

“I know. And you’ve only my word for it. But when he talks about growing up with you. . .” She shrugged. “The Trickster disappears for a while.”

“He talks about us?”

It was almost exactly what Stark had said a few hours earlier. But the emotion in Thor’s voice made it almost painful this time around. “He comes at it sideways. It started when he taught me to fight. Now I can sort of trick him into it.”

Something sparked on the machine and they both flinched back. Thor watched Stark put out the small blaze and climb under the console to tinker with something. “I wanted for so long for everything to go back to that. To the way it was. But it never will.”

She looked up at him. “Of course not. You’re not children anymore. You need to figure out how to be adults with each other. Equals.” Stark gave a shout of triumph and the machine flared to life. “Assuming I can bring him back.”

 Stark came over and handed her a small metal box with a big red button on it. “In theory, this will work as a beacon. When you’re ready to come back, hit the button and a new portal will open.”

She tucked it into a pocket inside the jacket. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

Stark nodded. “I’ll have that drink waiting,” he told her, walking back to the console. He fiddled with something and, with a hum that was almost deafening, the “gun” lit up and fired, forming a portal of blinding white.

She had no idea how long he would be able to keep it open and it was too loud for proper goodbyes anyway. She gave Thor a smile and Romanov a little salute and walked forward into the light.

Traveling with Loki was disorienting and often nauseating but never painful. Going through Stark’s portal felt like being torn apart and roughly put back together. She was dumped out onto soft, powdery earth, gasping for air with lungs that seemed to have forgotten what they were for. She rolled onto her hands and knees and vomited, fingers digging into the ground as she retched.

When the last of the spasms were over, she spat and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She did a quick visual inspection and was relieved to find all her parts in the right places, her survival kit and staff next to her. So, unpleasant but ultimately successful. Score one for Midgardian science.

She gathered up her pack and used her staff as a brace, getting to her feet. She futilely tried to brush the dust off her hands and legs, then gave up and looked at her surroundings.

She had been to a lot of strange places with Loki. A planet made of crystal and gems, buildings carved into the towering spires that gleamed in the sun. A city built entirely in the trees, the ground too far down to see. He’d even taken her to the ruins of Jotunheim, just so she could take a look around. But she had never seen anything as desolate as this place.

It was hard to call it a desert. The sun shown high in an gloomy violet sky, bright but not hot; she was perfectly comfortable in her borrowed jacket. There was no vegetation, though, and the ground seemed to be made of grey dust, shifting in a light breeze. It coated her clothes and skin, clogging her nose as she breathed. The land seemed to stretch out before her, featureless and flat all the way out to the horizon.

She turned in a slow circle and spotted what looked like buildings off to what was either the southwest or northeast depending on if the sun was rising or setting. Of course, compass directions were rather arbitrary when lots of realms had nothing resembling a magnetic north but it helped her orient to her surroundings. Vaguely building-shaped lumps in the distance was better than featureless expanse, so she pointed herself in that direction and started hiking.

She started out tense and on alert, expecting something to attack her at any moment. When nothing did she allowed herself to maintain a lower level of paranoia that soon bled into utter boredom. The scenery didn’t change, not even a little. When she looked behind her, her footprints stretched back as far as she could see. She thought the building shapes might be a little closer than they were before, but it was impossible to tell. Most troubling, the sun didn’t seem to move. She was certain she’d been walking at least an hour or two but it was in the exact same position it had been when she started walking, bathing the world in a late afternoon light.

Another hour after those observations, she started getting the vague sense of being watched. There was nowhere to hide and she couldn’t see any figures when she glanced about. But the sensation persisted and occasionally she thought she saw something like a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to tip it off by looking for it so she kept her gaze forward and made a point of turning around to gauge her distance again, scanning the plain as she did so.

When she turned back towards her destination, she came face to face with her long dead mother.

It was an illusion, she could tell that right off. It was a very, _very_ good one, however. Better than the one she and Loki had accidentally made once. This was her mother as she might look now, in late middle age, children grown. Syn didn’t think her mother had ever looked quite so severe, though. The image was solid, but if Syn squinted and stared hard, she could see flickers of the shadow creature that had been teasing the edges of her sight. Why in all the realms it had decided to take her mother’s form, she had no clue.

“Syn,” it said and the voice was spot on as well. “Is this what I raised you to be?”

She felt a brow arch. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m so disappointed in you.”

Its tone was so deadly serious that Syn almost laughed. Her mother had never gone more than two minutes without smiling. “That’s really very judgmental for a corpse,” she informed the shade.

There was a flicker of doubt in its face, just for an instant. It probably wasn’t used to having its tricks seen through. Still, it persisted. “Princess of Alfheim reduced to a common wanderer. Trapped in the Tenth Realm for the rest of eternity.”

Syn tilted her head. “Fascinating. You must have skimmed my mind for information but not gone very deep. If you had, you’d know this wouldn’t work.”

The shade’s shoulders tightened in anger. “You will listen when I speak to you! You’ve shamed me, your father and your kingdom. Only fools find their way here. Only the lost. How far you have fallen from what you once were. What I hoped you to be.”

Right, now this was getting dull. She shifted her grip on her staff, changing it from walking stick to weapon. “You’re right. I imagine my mother would be quite disappointed in me, though not for the reasons you think. However, you are not her. What you are is in my way. That’s a very dangerous place to be.” The shade faltered and took a step back. Syn pursued. “Honestly, is this what you do here? Talk people to death? I don’t know why I bothered to come, then. Loki will be king by the end of the day.”

Recognition flickered over the creature’s face, still wearing her mother’s form as a mask. Everything in Syn went on high alert. “You recognized his name.”

“No.” The voice was no longer entirely her mother’s, something reedy and whispering underlying it.

“Yes, I saw your face. Where is he?”

“No!” It turned as if to run away and Syn swung with her staff, catching it in the solar plexus.

She half expected the weapon to go right through it, but apparently the shades had some mass to them because she contacted with a solid _thunk_. It howled in pain, bending forward, and she twirled the staff, knocking its legs out. She caught it by the throat and slammed its head down into the ground. “Loki. Tell me where he is. Now.”

Her mother’s form flickered and faded around her hand, fighting her grip and the compulsion to tell the truth it caused. “You’ll never find him. He’s hers now. Her latest toy.”

“Whose?” She lifted its head and slammed again. “If you know him, you know what he’s capable of. I’m his woman, imagine what I’ll do to you.”

“The queen,” it hissed, clawed hands scrabbling at her wrist. “He’s hers. She wagered fair and square and took the prize. She never lets a prize run free.”

She tightened her grip. “Where is the queen?”

Its eyes rolled back, indicating the way she’d been walking. “Palace is that way. But you’ll never find him. Not if she doesn’t want you to.”

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered. She bent close. “You tell your queen she’s taken something of mine and I intend to get it back. Prize or no. And warn your friends I don’t like having my mind read. I share the Trickster’s bed, you can’t break me with words.” With that she stood, releasing it. 

What little remained of her mother’s form melted away and she got a brief impression of dark skin and smooth features before it swirled away in a tornado of shrieking shadow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there people!
> 
> SweetTea is still my awesome beta. :)

When the creature was gone from her sight, she sat in the loose earth and drank a few mouthfuls of water. Something was niggling the back of her mind. Something she was missing. She tried to tell herself she was unsettled from the fight, but knew it was a lie even without the little twinge in her head. She didn’t seek out violence by any means, but she no longer abhorred it on principle. She was a competent fighter and aimed to dispatch opponents as quickly as possible, even if that meant deadly force. That brief skirmish had gone in the best possible way and, other than the crash of adrenaline, she wasn’t upset at all. She hadn’t even had to use magic.

_Oh_

She realized then that she hadn’t tried to use it once since arriving. She tried to summon her magic and felt nothing. No build up, no burn in her shoulders. It wasn’t like the dampening bracelets SHIELD had used. There was no repression. It was like the ability had been removed from her entirely. A sense cut off, a limb amputated.

She felt the first flutterings of panic and pushed them down, taking another long draught of water. No magic was not the end of the world. She’d gone centuries not using it. She’d managed just fine in Midgard without it for a while. She could do this without it. She still had all her truth sense. And while it would have made finding Loki much easier, it didn’t mean she couldn’t.. She’d already figured out which way to go. And the shade had helpfully let her know who her real enemy was. She could do this.

Still. The loss weighed on her. She was good with her staff. Could manage with other weapons, preferring blunt to blades. But nothing replaced a well placed blast of magic or hastily erected barrier. Both had saved her life and limb on occasion. Worse was the loss of healing powers. She could survive quite a bit, though not as much as Loki or the average Asgardian. But there was more to this than mere survival; injuries could slow her down or cripple her. Without her power, she’d need to be more cautious, quicker on her feet.

Suddenly, sharply, she wanted Loki with her. She depended on him, possibly too much, when in these sort of situations. She reminded herself that she had managed perfectly well without him for years, but it did little to soothe her. She missed him and she was afraid for him. The look on his face haunted her. He’d known where he was being pulled to and it had frightened him. He was so rarely frightened.

 She capped her water and stood, dusting herself off half heartedly. Fretting was not going to rescue him and get them out of this mess. Magic or no, she was Syn of Alfheim. And she was not going to let this eerie, shade-infested place get the best of her.

*

She had no idea how long she walked. The sun hung exactly where it always had, in perpetual, bruised twilight. She stopped twice more, once to eat and once for more water and to shake some dirt out of her boots. She was growing tired, but there was no way in the realms she was going to try napping out here in the wastelands. She’d walk till exhaustion took her, if it came to that. Theoretically, she could go a few days without sleeping, though she preferred to get it more regularly. Loki could go ages without it and often did. He claimed not to like sleeping, considered it wasted time. She’d long since gotten used to waking in the middle of the night to find him reading or watching the sky. It made her appreciate the rare times he actually slept beside her so much more.

Pleasant memories of him kept her going, through one more water break and onwards. The distant shapes had grown closer, coalescing into spires and turrets of a spindly yet imposing castle. Well, if the queen was her problem, chances are she lived in that. It seemed to be a literally universal trait of royalty that they felt the need to build the biggest home they could conceive of to flaunt how very in charge they were.

The castle was at the base of what appeared to be a rather impressive mountain range, tucked in a valley, protected from the elements. As she got closer, the ground began to slope down and she had to lean on her staff more and more to keep her balance. She saw more shades, flickers out the corner of her eyes, but none approached her. She wondered if word had gotten out about how very uninterested she was in playing games.

The loose dirt grew coarser the deeper into the valley she went, eventually becoming gravel, with some larger chunks of stone mixed in. She paused to pick up one of the larger rocks and examine it, but it disintegrated in her hand. She’d never seen rock like that before and for some reason it unsettled her, though she couldn’t have put to words any reason why. There was just a strong, instinctive sense of _wrongness_ that seemed to inhabit the entire realm. She’d tried to ignore it at first but the more time she spent here, the worse she felt. The next time she stopped to eat, she didn’t sit, despite how much her feet ached.

Based on her level of fatigue and how many times she’d grown hungry, she estimated she’d walked the equivalent of a day, possibly a bit longer. Other than the shades, she’d seen no signs of life. No plants. No people. Given the multitude of stories about children and others being drawn here, she’d expected there to be people. Towns, villages. Something. There weren’t even signs of them having been here. No bodies. No skeletons. What had the creature pretending to be her mother said? Only the lost find their way here.

So what in Hel did they do with them when they got here?

The question nagged at her as she walked into the long shadow of the mountains. It was there, where the twilight turned to dusky near-dark that she discovered her answer.

She almost missed the first statue. It was half crumbled, a figure kneeling in the dirt a few yards from her. She noted the shape idly but didn’t pause. Not until she saw the second, then the third did the oddness of it come to her. Why statues this far from the castle? She was still several hours walk from the front gates. Why put decorations this far out?

Now that she was aware of them, she noticed them constantly, some near, some just dots in the distance, only half visible in the dim light. She took to stopping to examine them; first a man, back hunched as if under a great burden. Then a woman, kneeling and despondent, hands curled against her chest. Then a child, face crumpled as if in tears, small shoulders pulled up to protect him from a blow. 

She stood and stared at the child a very long time, thinking. She was good with puzzles. Put the pieces together to make a whole. This was the first time she’d wished she wasn’t. Because the picture was so horrible, she didn’t want it to be true. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound in the distance. First she scanned for a shade but other than the shapes of the statues, she was alone. The sound wasn’t threatening, anyway. It sounded. . . desperate. Almost against her will, she started to look for it, following it through the field of figures. She didn’t call out in return, still cautious that it could be a trap. But it grew louder, then louder still. An odd, moaning noise, not unlike the sounds that had come from the portal on Midgard.

Eventually she found the source of the noise and was unsurprised to find it came from one of the figures that had been surrounding her. It was a man or had once been. Now he was half rock, frozen in place in a position of grief, bent and defeated. His legs, torso, and most of one arm were dark grey rock and as she watched, it crept over the other shoulder, almost imperceptibly slow. His head scarcely moved but his eyes were free, rolling in his head. They widened when he saw her. They took in her staff, her clothes, and the pack slung over her shoulder and he whispered in a rough, painfully hoarse voice. “SHIELD?”

Her heart sank into her stomach, thinking of Romanov’s lost team. She shook her head. “Only a friend,” she said, not wanting him to think this was a rescue. She offered him her canteen and he took two greedy gulps before choking. “What happened to you?” she asked, unable to help herself.

He took a labored breath. “We were in Alaska, examining unknown power readings. We call them 0-8-4s. There was six of us. We got to the location but we didn’t find any anomaly. I don’t know what the others saw or heard but I heard music. Opera. Like my mother used to listen to. There was even static, like it was playing on her old kitchen radio. I walked towards it and I found myself out in the desert. I knew it wasn’t Earth anymore.” He glanced at her for confirmation and she nodded.

“It’s called the Realm Below,” she offered.

He gave a slow blink in place of a nod. “I walked. I started to see things - people. My mother. Little brother. A boy I knew in school. I thought it was hallucinations but they seemed so real. They talked. Reminded me of what a screw up I was. Every test I cheated on, every kid I beat up. Everything I was ashamed of.” He closed his eyes, pained. “I came across Jorman on the third day. He was worse off than I am now. Told me his father had been following him, yelling all the things he used to yell. That’s what they do. They drag up the worst of you, everything you hate about yourself. And they beat you with it till you break. And once you break. . . then they have you.”

Syn scanned the field of statues, wondering which one was Jorman. Which were the other SHIELD agents. “They turn you to stone?”

“They _feed_ on you,” he said, voice gone panicked and haunted. “I don’t know if they need the despair or if that’s just what lets them get inside. But they take it from you. Your emotions, your life, your soul, I guess. And the more they take, the more the stone takes over. Until there’s no you anymore, just the stone.”

She thought of the child statue she’d seen and felt nauseous thinking of the poor thing slowly freezing, lost and despairing. “I wish I could help you,” she said quietly.

His eyes rolled up again. “Kill me. Please. Before it goes any farther. You haven’t heard them, the others. When it comes. They scream.”

A shudder ran through her and she didn’t bother to hide it. She lowered her staff and nodded. “When you’re ready,” she told him, putting her hands on either side of his head.

He closed his eyes and began to whisper something she recognized as a prayer. She chanted her own Alfan prayer in her head. When he got to “Amen,” he gave the slightest nod and whispered, “Thank you.” She grit her teeth and twisted, snapping his neck cleanly.

She snatched her hands back as the creeping stone sped up, swallowing the rest of him in an instant. Nearby, she thought she heard a howl of rage but when she snatched up her staff and looked she saw nothing. She gave the statue that had once been a man, a proud SHIELD agent, one last look and realized she’d never asked his name. She told herself it didn’t matter. It could have been any of them. When she got back, she could tell Romanov what had happened to them. Their families would get closure. It was cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

She touched his forehead gently, murmuring the end of her prayer, granting him peace in the world beyond death. Then she stepped away, continuing towards the castle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued worship for my beta SweetTea :)
> 
> A bit of well deserved violence in this one. Nothing too gory but just a head's up.

Syn lost herself in her thoughts after leaving the SHIELD agent. She had seen a lot of things in the last two years. Horrible things and wondrous ones. She had thought she’d become somewhat hardened to it all. Cynical. Not the way Loki was. He seemed utterly unimpressed by everything, generally. She’d come a long way from the sheltered princess or simple serving girl. But this shook her. This place, the fate of those who walked here. It was stomach-churningly wrong. She had seen Loki break people’s will with words. Had done it herself, on rare occasion. It was just another way to manipulate. An enemy was easier to defeat with no defenses.

That was generally where they left it. Break them with words, get what you need, go on with your day. She supposed she’d never really thought about what happened after. What you became when an enemy held up your faults for all to see.

She wondered what the shades had been whispering to Loki.

Between that thought and the next something slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. She rolled away, barely avoiding a fist to the face. Her staff had been knocked from her hand and she scrambled to her knees to face her foe. It was a shade with no glamour on. Tall and thin, with long arms and soot grey skin. It had eyes, a few shades darker than its skin but nothing that resembled a nose. She wasn’t entirely sure it had a mouth until the grey skin at the bottom of its face split and revealed a row of sharp, pointed teeth. It took her a moment to realize it was grinning and then it slammed into her again.

This time she felt something in her ribcage give and bit down a cry. She threw an elbow and contacted with something firm and fleshy. She was not a brawler by any means. She’d never had a fight in which she lost both her weapon and her magic and so it had never come to fists and feet before. But shades fought with words and fear so it was likely it didn’t have much skill either. Surely two poor fighters were an even match?

It took hold of her braid and tried to yank her head back. She went willingly, knocking it off balance. Her staff was a few yards away, back where she had been standing when it first tackled her. She twisted and punched wildly, taking it in what passed for its throat. Its hands flew to the impact and she got her feet under her, staggering for the weapon.

She got two steps before it spoke. “Jotun whore.”

Oh, she much preferred the glamours if that’s what their true voices sounded like. It hissed and scratched along her skin, sending chills through her. That was the thing under the bed, the creature in the closet, the unknown darkness in the woods. They might not look like much but she now understood why it was said monsters came from the Realm Below. Had she been a child, she imagined she’d have curled into a ball and waited for her mother to rescue her. Even as an adult, it froze her in her tracks.

“You stole my prey,” it continued, closer now. She wondered if she’d hurt it or if it was just toying with her.

 Shaking off the fear, she glanced back at it, summoning nonchalance from somewhere deep within. “Come now, he was all but gone. I imagine you had your fill.”

“He had fight left in him.” It advanced on her. “Not as much as you, of course. You’ll feed me for weeks.”

She lunged for her staff and it howled and crouched to all fours like an animal before leaping at her. Her fingers wrapped around cold metal a fraction of a second before teeth closed on her shoulder. They punched through the jacket and armor into her flesh and this time she did cry out in pain and anger. Dammit, she had not come this far to be killed by a petulant animal who’d lost its supper.

She got a knee under herself and _pushed_ , bucking the creature off of her, teeth tearing her flesh. She gripped her staff in both hands and whirled, wielding it like a club. Loki would have lectured her on her form but he couldn’t have argued with her results. It connected solidly with the shade’s head, knocking it down. The second blow kept it down and the third was likely the death blow.

She thought of the SHIELD agent and his team. The wailing woman and the crying child. Of all the figures she’d passed and not had the stomach to examine. And as she thought of them, she kept striking the shade, though she knew it wasn’t solely responsible for them all. She hit it again and again, until it was just a mess of black blood and gore.

Syn staggered a step back, turned and vomited violently into the dirt. She forced herself to walk away from the corpse and the mess before collapsing from the pain in her side and shoulder. She lost herself to it for a while, curled on her non-injured side in the coarse sand. There was no way to tell how long she was there thanks to the damned frozen sun. It could have been an hour or two or most of a day. She might even have slept, if one counted loss of consciousness as sleeping. Finally she forced herself to sit up, rinse her mouth, and inspect her wounds.

The SHIELD jacket was sticky and stiff with half-dried blood when she eased it off. Twisting to examine her shoulder hurt but she was relieved by what she saw. Six deep gouges, each shorter than her smallest finger and no longer bleeding. There was a first aid kit in the pack Romanov had given her and she pulled it out. She emptied it and inspected everything to figure out how one cleaned and bandaged an injury. In the end, she swabbed it out with alcohol wipes - which stung like fire and started two of the wounds bleeding again - and taped a massive amount of gauze on it. Her ribs hurt but gentle prodding assured her they were bruised not broken. She found a pressure wrap in the kit and tied it around her torso over her armor. It eased the ache a little. There were painkillers in the kit as well but she had no idea what they’d do to an Alfan so she skipped them and settled for more water and a nibble of a cracker.

After repacking the bag, she debated putting the SHIELD jacket back on or discarding it. The shoulder was ripped to hell but the rest was intact. Had she not been wearing it she didn’t think she’d have use of her left arm anymore and armor was armor. So she shrugged back into it gingerly and zipped it up to her throat. She was very careful not to look at the bloody mess behind her as she readied herself to continue.

She might be unaffected by the shades’ mind games. She might not be at the edge of despair. But this place was taking its toll on her. She needed to find Loki, solve whatever mess he’d gotten himself into, and get out of this realm. Before it ate away at her completely.

She started for the castle again, slower than she would have liked but as fast as her ribs would let her. She had come so far already; the last few miles were not going to beat her. She didn’t look at the statues she passed. If she even glanced at one, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to look away. They were long past saving, she told herself. She only hoped Loki was not.

*

The castle gates towered over her head. What had looked spindly and haphazard in the distance now loomed above her in the dim light, ominous and chaotic. There were no guards, no gatekeeper, just two large metal rings hung at eye level. She was fairly certain the queen, whoever she was, knew she was coming. So, figuring it couldn’t hurt, she reached up and grabbed the ring, pulling with all her might.

Alfans might not be in the same weight class as Jotun or Asgardians but they were far from human. She might bleed and bruise but she could take some serious damage if she needed to. She would never have survived her adventures with Loki otherwise. So, while the doors were large and metal and she was injured, she was able to drag it forward a few precious inches, then a few more, until she could wiggle through the space and into the castle yard.

She found herself in a kind of sculpture garden. No plants or flowers grew. The ground was the same crumbled grey stone. But here, there were paths cut through the sand, marked with heavy flagstones. Lining the paths were statues, each caught in a different position. These were different than the ones outside the yard. In the valley, she has seen figures in all manner of positions but they had all had one thing in common. They had all been beaten. There was despair and . . . brokenness in every line of their faces and bodies. Here the statues had even more variety. A woman on her knees, pleading and afraid. A man driven mad, hands in his hair and a crazed smile on his face. A man - a warrior - standing straight and tall, staring defiantly at an unseen foe. These were not victims slowly sapped of strength. They had been given special attention, known their tormentors. They had been. . . played with.

_“You’ll never find him. He’s hers now. Her latest toy.”_

Well, yes, if she were a queen of a dark, evil realm who liked to turn people into stone and she’d captured someone like Loki, she’d certainly put him somewhere for display afterwards. She wondered briefly who these other people had been to warrant the same treatment. Enemies? Long forgotten heroes or legends? She shook the thought off, head already too full of horror to contemplate further.

Loki was here, in this garden. She knew that with complete and utter certainty. If she had her magic, she could have found him easily, sending it out to hunt for the familiar green glow that was him. She rarely used that particular trick, since finding him usually meant her magic pulled her to him which, like all her other teleporting, left her ill and out of sorts. Just this once, however, she would have been perfectly willing to suffer the consequences. That magic was lost to her for the time being, but the instinct that told her he was near thrummed steadily in her chest. She didn’t know what it was, some obscure facet of her truth powers or some bond between them that went deeper than magic. But she knew she was close. And while her head said a prize like Loki would be at the center of the garden, the instinct said that this was personal for the unseen queen. All the trouble she’d gone to to get him here meant he was special. And that meant she would keep him close. So instead of striding for the place the paths converged, she followed her instincts to the edge of the garden and made her way towards the looming palace.

She was becoming convinced that time worked differently here. The garden hadn’t appeared large from the door. Perhaps the size of the Great Hall back in Asgard. But as she walked, it seemed to grow and shift around her to the point that she began to take note of the statues she passed to assure herself she wasn’t going in circles. If the queen had the ability to warp the land around her, Syn was in far more trouble than expected. She doubted that was the case; she wouldn’t have waited this long to use it if she could. She’d have left Syn out in the desert to rot. It had to be an optical illusion inherent in the garden. A defense mechanism to deter invaders.  
 She dearly hoped Loki could explain some of this when she found him.

She dearly hoped he was in a condition to answer questions when she found him.

She had spent the last two (three? The perpetual twilight was starting to wear on her.) days trying very hard not to think about what would happen if she couldn’t find him or if he was dead or stone when she did so. She was not quite so far gone that she would lay down and die without him. She could go back to Midgard, report to Romanov, and hitch a ride with Thor. He’d take her home to Alfheim and she had no doubt her little town of Lakefire would welcome her back warmly. She would be lonely. She would mourn a very long time. Beyond that she didn’t know. A life without Loki or even the hope of his return. The idea was too big to get her head around.

The path took a sharp turn inward and, heart thumping, she followed it, staff in a fighting grip, shoulders tensed though it pulled on her wounds. The statues thinned out, replaced by columns, then arches until the path ended on a small courtyard. In the center was a platform much like the ones the other statues sat on. On the platform was Loki.

The sight of him hit her like a blow. He was sitting on the dais, a chain wrapped around his ankle holding him there. His legs were bent, arms crossed over his knees, hands hanging limp. His head was bowed and exhaustion was etched in every line of his body. Her heart ached and leapt in equal measures. She wanted to run to him. Or if not run, stagger forward as fast as her ribs would let her move. But reason told her to be cautious, to brace for another trick. So she crept forward slowly and silently.

He looked solid. She saw no flickers of shade beneath his features, none of the haze that usually meant a glamour. As she got closer, that little instinct inside her started to thrum in awareness. That, as much as her own senses, told her that this was her Loki. Real and in the flesh. Not dead or stone or lost to her. 

“Loki,” she said quietly, cautious of drawing enemies to them.

He didn’t look up, merely moaned. “No, no more. Please.” His voice was hoarse and her throat ached in sympathy.

“It’s me,” she said. The platform was big enough for two and she used her staff and a foothold in the carved base to boost herself up, wincing at the effort. “Loki-”

“Leave me!” It was a roar, but there was far more pain in it than rage. “Or at least look like someone else.” He lifted his head then, his eyes bright sky blue and a little wild. “Not her. Bring Odin back. Or Mother. Perhaps Thor, just for a change.” There was a sing-songy madness in his tone that sent a chill down her. “Just stop. Looking. Like. _Her_.” His voice broke on the last word.

“Loki, it’s me,” she said, reaching out for him. He flinched away from her but she persisted. She caught his hand and wrapped those familiar cold fingers around her throat. She met his eyes. “It’s me.”

He stared at her a long moment, fingers flexing and relaxing against her. Hope and fear warred in his features and she sat as still as the grave, waiting for him to decide if she was real or a new torment. She saw the instant hope won. Relief flooded his features. He stroked her throat with his thumb, studying her as if he’d never seen her before.

“It is you,” he said softly. “You came.” His hand tightened on her then dropped and he slumped forward, resting his forehead in the crook of her neck. “You came,” he repeated, voice barely a whisper. His breath hitched and he pressed closer to her, hands sliding around her waist, clutching at her back.

Syn wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly, fingers stroking through his hair. She had seen Loki in all manner of moods, from righteous anger to tender affection. She had never seen him like this, so close to breaking. It had been less than three days for her but who knew how long it had felt to him. Maybe the day she spent on Midgard trying to get here had been a week, or a month. Or maybe he was just loaded down with so many regrets that despair was never far from him. She had no words to comfort him so she just held him as tightly as she could.

 _You came._ The words made her eyes prick with tears. Of course he hadn’t thought she would come. He wouldn’t have thought anyone would come for him. He pushed everyone so far away from him and was then surprised and sad when he had no one near.

Except her.

She bent her head, stroking his hair back so she could whisper in his ear, “Of course I came.” His fingers dug into her back painfully but she didn’t even flinch. “I will _always_ come and find you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to my lovely beta, SweetTea.
> 
> I'd like to pretend I'm updating again so soon because I'm nice. But, truth is, I had kind of a rough morning and I think your responses to this one will amuse me. :) 
> 
> Ehehehehe.

Syn recovered from their reunion faster than Loki did. She was happy to see him. Deliriously happy. But she was also well aware they were in hostile territory and he was currently in no shape to fight. So she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and reached down with the other hand for her staff. She kept it at the ready, chin on top of his head, and watched for danger while he pulled himself together.

Time ticked by. She tried counting breaths but lost track after a couple hundred. Slowly, his fingers unclenched from her back, laying flat. Then he found the end of her braid and tugged, looping the rope of hair around his hand. “Why did you come?” he rasped, face still hidden in her neck. “I chose the promise of power over you. I said-”

She stroked his hair with her free hand, fingers tangling in the curls. “Well, what couple doesn’t have their fights?” His hand tightened on her braid. She glanced down at the top of his head. “At the end, when you saw the portal for what it was, you were afraid. I know what it takes to frighten you. I couldn’t leave you to it.” She wound a lock of his hair around her finger. She really did prefer its natural curl, though this was probably not the time to be thinking it. “As for your priorities. . .” She gestured to the chain on his ankle. “You appear to have had sufficient time to think about where you went wrong.”

He lifted his head then and looked at her. His eyes were shadowed and he looked tired. But he no longer looked ready to shatter. He even managed a reasonable impression of his trickster smile. “I can’t believe you crossed realms for me.”

She matched her smile to his. “Well, I figured it was an opportunity to give the most well deserved ‘I told you so’ in history.”

He actually chuckled at that, as she’d hoped. “However did you-” He stopped, brow furrowing. He leaned back a bit to examine her. “Is that a SHIELD jacket?”

“I think I look rather fetching,” she said, holding out an arm and inspecting it.

He looked as if she’d admitted to wearing old newspapers. “Syn. You didn’t.”

“I did.” If he was better enough to mock, he was better enough to get moving. She leaned back to inspect the chain on his ankle. “You see, if you make allies instead of mischief, then you gain the ability to use said allies to your advantage instead of getting arrested or run out of town. Stick your leg out.”

He shifted, obeying. “I am all for employing pawns when necessary but SHIELD?”

There was a weakness in the link that attached to the cuff on his ankle. She wedged the tip of her staff in it and stood to get leverage. “They aren’t pawns. I rather like Agent Romanov. I’m thinking of getting coffee with her when we get back.” She braced her foot on the loose chain and twisted the staff, shoulder and ribs protesting all the while. “Maybe send her a present at midwinter.”

“I believe the Midgardian version is Christmas card.” He watched the chain link twist. “How did SHIELD get you here?”

“Stark,” she said through gritted teeth, leaning on the staff.

His gaze flickered back to her face. “You met Stark,” he said flatly.

She paused and looked at him. “Jealousy, Loki, really?” She gave the chain one last firm twist and it bent and snapped, freeing him.

He stood in one fluid motion and made a show of straightening his cuffs and brushing the dust off his pants. Then he hopped down from the pedestal and held his hands out for her. “He gave me a beacon that will hopefully get us back to Midgard,” she explained, crouching so he could catch her waist and lift her down to the ground. She gasped when his fingers squeezed her ribs and he frowned at her. “I’m a little worse for the wear,” she admitted.

She tried to stop him, but he unzipped her jacket and peeled it open to reveal her bandages. Blood stained the gauze covering her shoulder, wounds likely reopened when she freed him. He cursed rather creatively for a moment and covered her shoulder with a gentle hand. She saw the exact moment he remembered his magic wasn’t working and felt sympathy at the look of annoyance that crossed his face. “I can heal it once we’re away from here,” she said reaching into her pocket for the little remote Stark had given her. 

Loki stopped her with a hand on her arm. “No. Not yet. Mab went to this much trouble once; she’ll almost certainly do it again. It’s best if we settle it now.”

Syn rezipped her jacket and arched a brow. “And why, exactly, is this Mab so very angry with you?”

Suddenly he seemed to have a great deal of trouble meeting her eyes. “I may have reneged on a deal with her.”

That level of discomfort indicated a story she might not actually want to hear. “What. Deal.”

He let out a slow breath through his nose. “Do you remember when I came to you in Alfheim I told you about an enemy I had made? The one I owed and was unable to pay back due to my defeat on Midgard?” She nodded slowly. “I was able to . . . pacify him by retrieving a different object of power, one Mab had. I thought it would be child’s play but as I’m sure you’ve seen, this place has certain challenges.” He made a face as if he’d just tasted something foul. “I ended up having to bargain with the queen. The object in exchange for my return.”

“She traded this thing - and don’t tell me what it is because I’m comfortable in my ignorance - for you.” He gave a sharp nod. She crossed her arms slowly, staff tucked in her elbow. “I’m guessing the original deal was not you as a tormented statue in her garden.”

He suddenly felt the need to inspect something on his cuff. “The word consort may have been mentioned,” he mumbled quickly.

Syn leaned forward. “What was that?”

“She wanted me as her consort,” he spat out.

“And you agreed.”

“Well I didn’t intend to go through with it!”

She threw up her hands. “Oh, that’s much better.” She paced away from him. This was neither the time nor the place to have this argument. Intellectually, she knew that. The rest of her needed a moment.

He actually sounded contrite when he spoke. “Syn, you know how I bargain. I thought there were sufficient loopholes to postpone my arrival indefinitely.” He paused, then added, quieter, “I admit I didn’t think through the implications.”

If she hit him, it would only hurt her own hand. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a long, slow breath. She had not come all this way to come to blows over this. She could either be angry or she could file it away with all the other thoughtless things he’d done and not take it personally. One of those got them out of here a little quicker. The day was coming when that particular file box would burst its seams and the argument they would have then would rattle the nine realms. But for now, there was still a bit of space.

There was one thing she needed to check, however. She paced back to him and wrapped her hand around his neck, skin to skin to compel honesty, and worded her question very carefully. “Did you do anything with her that _I_ would consider being untrue?”

He looked right into her eyes as he spoke. “Nothing, Syn. I swear it. Not even a gentle touch.”

She nodded and released him. “Right. Good.” She straightened and smoothed a hand down her braid and rubbed her thumb over her ring. “Then let’s find the queen and see about getting out of here.”

“I expect she’s in her throne room. I know the way.”

“Of course you do,” Syn muttered, rummaging in her bag.

He glared and continued, “I’ve no doubt she knows you’ve freed me. She’ll be expecting us.”

She found what she was looking for and pulled his knives out with a flourish. Romanov had handed them over without comment when she’d asked. “Darling, really,” Syn said, holding them out. “Who could ever expect us?”

His hands covered hers, taking the weapons. Then he flashed his knife’s blade smile and looked truly like himself again. A tiny knot of worry she’d been almost unaware of loosened. He tucked his blades into their sheaths and inclined his head, leading her down the garden path.

“What sort of creature injured you?” he asked with deceptive mildness.

“One of the shades.” She’d hoped the tone of her voice would encourage him to drop the subject but he’d never been one to take a hint if he didn’t want to.

“You prodded one of them into attacking you physically. That’s all but unheard of.”

“Well, their mental tricks don’t work on me so-” She stopped when she realized he was no longer next to her. She glanced back to find him standing in the path staring at her.

“They weren’t able to-” He made a gesture, unable or unwilling to think of a word to describe what he’d endured.

“They tried.” She pressed a hand to her aching side. “You know how well illusions work on me.”

He shook his head slowly, marveling at her. “Of course. You were unaffected.”

“Not completely,” she said, truth spilling out without her intent. She sighed at the look on his face. “I saw the statues. What they do to people here. There was a SHIELD agent who wasn’t completely gone yet so I had to-” She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing hard. “The shade that had been feeding on him attacked me. I crushed his head in.” Her fingers tightened on her staff. “There’s a darkness here. It whispers. It seeps in. Mind games or no.”

She saw his hand move slightly, as if he wanted to touch her, then thought better of it. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she muttered, following him down a path she hadn’t been on before. It lead to a set of black metal French doors. Before either of them could lift a hand, they swung open of their own accord. She and Loki exchanged a brief glance. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand but knew he needed the freedom to lie. Any sign of weakness would work against them. So she straightened her shoulders and collected her face into her best imperious expression. He offered her a flash of his real smile before putting on his own haughty mask. With a little nod, they both faced forward and stepped into the castle.

They stepped immediately into the throne room. It stretched out the length of the castle, larger then any room at Asgard. She glanced up at the ceiling arching above them. It was painted black and dotted with spots of light that seemed to shimmer like stars. She kept pace with Loki as they walked, taking everything in. There were statues lining the walls and she didn’t let herself focus on them. She needed to find her center and not listen to the darkness of the realm that seemed to cling to her.

At the far end of the room was the throne and lounging on the throne was a woman. Doorways flanked the throne’s dais, leading to more stairs. Syn was fairly certain she didn’t want to know what was back there. Mab wore a glamour to appear more human but Syn could still see glimmers of the shade beneath. The illusion was of a fine boned woman with long dark hair and a rich, royal purple gown. Her skin had some of the grey of the shades and Syn couldn’t tell if that was how the queen had chosen to look or if it was her own truth sight filling it in. In either case, it gave her a vague other worldly appearance.

Mab watched them approach her, an odd smile curving her very red mouth. Syn was brought to mind of small predators. Scorpions and snakes. Deadly things that hid in the shade until it was time to strike. She forced herself not to slow or even glance at Loki.

“Your lady is persistent, Trickster. She’s been ever so entertaining,” she said as they reached the stairs that lead to her throne. The queen’s voice was deeper than expected, with the slightest hiss. It sent a creeping chill down Syn’s spine and she tightened her hand on her staff, knuckles whitening.

Loki was either unperturbed or playing so very well. “We do strive for entertainment, Mab.”

“I had assumed, based on what I knew of you, that no one would come for you. Not Loki the Trickster. I had heard you hadn’t a friend in all the realms who would cross a room to help you, let alone cross worlds.” She turned her gaze to Syn and it took every ounce of will-power Syn had not to flinch. Mab’s eyes were pure black, both in glamour and reality. “It seems I was wrong.”

At her side, Loki tensed a little. Syn lifted her uninjured shoulder casually. “I’m used to being underestimated. I don’t take it personally.”

That red mouth curved up into a grin, showing sharp teeth. “My subjects have told me so much about you, Syn of Alfheim. You brush off their feeding attempts as if they were flies. You rob them of their prey before they’ve had the final bite. That’s considered rude, you know. Emotions grow sweeter the fewer there are.”

Syn tilted her head. “Is that what you eat? Emotion?”

Mab shrugged and bounced her hands as if weighing options. All her motions were unnaturally fluid. “It’s as good a word as any. We have a touch of telepathy, as I believe you’ve already deduced. We take regrets and fears and we hold them up to the light. We wear away at our prey’s defenses. And when they shatter in their despair, we sink our fangs in.” Another pointy grin. “Some are drained dry in a few days. Some last for years.” Her gaze flickered briefly to Loki, then back to Syn. “I had hoped he’d feed me a long time.”

“He has a previous commitment,” Syn said.

“Yes.” The word hissed out of the queen, raising the hair on Syn’s arms. “I see now that when he made his bargain with me, he was not intending to follow through.” She shook a long, claw tipped finger at Loki. “Naughty.”

He looked skyward briefly, as if unable to believe her ignorance. “I _am_ called the Trickster. I don’t know what else you expected.”

She laughed and Syn had to clench her hands to resist covering her ears. Mab stood in one liquid motion that was hard to follow. “It’s all right. I’ve forgiven you. You’ve brought me such an interesting new toy.”

“He didn’t bring me. I came of my own free will,” Syn reminded her. She was tensed up, ready for a battle and it was beginning to show in her voice.

“Yes, you did,” the queen agreed, gliding down the steps towards them. “And while that’s rare, it’s not what makes you unique.”

Syn glanced at Loki. “Did you hear that? The murderous, sinister queen thinks I’m unique.”

Mab stopped in front of Syn. “You are, perhaps, the first creature I’ve met who simply shrugged off the attempts to break her. I’ve seen all manner of resistance. Some lasted days before the stone began to take them. Loki here may have lasted weeks. But they were always affected. The words weighed on them. Cracks began to show. But not you. You felt the darkness here, and reacted to it with anger and hate. But never despair. Why is that, I wonder?”

Syn opened her mouth to reply, something pithy about being the Trickster’s lady. But Mab stopped her with a wicked, toothy grin. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Then, in a move too fast to counter, Mab lifted a taloned hand and drove it though jacket and armor and into Syn’s chest.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I'm not completely evil. :)
> 
> SweetTea is still the best, most patient beta ever.

It felt like a fist closed around her heart. Syn couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Dimly, she was aware of Loki shouting something. But all she could see were Mab’s black eyes and sharp smile. She lifted a hand and clawed futilely at the queen’s wrist. Mab twisted her hand, sending a shock of pain through Syn’s chest. Then she smiled again. “Oh,” she whispered, voice hissing and echoing. “I see.”

She snatched back her hand and Syn hit her knees. She covered the wound with her hands and felt blood, sticky and hot, soak her palms. Not gushing, though, not like a chest wound should. Just a slow, sluggish trickle. She tried to breathe but could only get in a thin wheeze.

“What did you do to her, Mab?” Oh, there was rage in Loki’s voice. Cold and biting.

Mab gave a childlike giggle. “I was just getting to the heart of the matter.” She glided around Syn like a dancer. “People think they hide their fears and regrets so well but they’re quite easy to find if you know where to look. Mostly they’re lies they tell themselves. No one is as ugly or stupid or unlovable as they think they are.” She wiggled her fingers at Loki. “Not even you, Trickster. She does love you, you know. It’s like a bright jewel burning in her heart.” Syn felt the other woman stroke her hair and flinched away. “I had to go in her heart for her fears; they were so well hidden. And I was right in calling her unique. You see, it’s not lies she fears. She sees right through those. It’s the truth that she knows will break her.”

She stepped in front of Syn and waved a hand, creating an illusion of a little girl with black curls, a heart shaped face, and bright blue eyes. What little air Syn had in her seemed to stick in her throat as an entirely different kind of pain hit her. _No. Oh, no,_ she thought, even as Loki spoke.

“What is that supposed to be?” She didn’t have to look at him to know his lip was curled.

“Think of her as an avatar of all the things your lady has given up to love you. Home and hearth. A family.” She giggled again. “She doesn’t even know if she wants a child, just that it will never happen as long as she’s with you. You see, your little Alfan used to dream about a simple life. No politics or war. Just peace and quiet. But then she fell in love. And she had to choose between her dreams and you. And we all know what won.”

Mab moved to Loki’s side, leaning on his shoulder. “Adorable little brat, isn’t she?” She twirled a finger and the illusion melted away. Syn couldn’t watch, glaring at the queen instead.

Loki’s brow arched. “That’s it? A child she may not want and letting go of some girlhood dreams? That’s supposed to break her?” He scoffed and Syn felt oddly warmed at his faith in her. “I look forward to when she catches her breath and beats you to a pulp.”

Sharp teeth gleamed between blood red lips. “Oh no,” Mad said quietly. “I’m not done. She regrets her lost dreams; it’s true. But that’s not where her despair lies. You remember that burning jewel I mentioned? Well, it warms her but it can scald as well. Because she knows - she _knows_ \- that you don’t love her as much as she loves you.”

Loki paled a little, the mocking expression dropping from his face. “Syn,” he said quietly. “Don’t listen-”

“Oh, please. Are you going to try to deny it?” Mab laughed and danced back over to Syn, crouching to speak in her ear. “What was it he said before he stepped into my portal? ‘The equation hasn’t changed.’”

“I was under the portal’s influence,” he snapped.

“But you weren’t lying,” Mab sing-songed. “She knows when you lie, Trickster. I’m getting this from her heart.” She looked at Syn. “Do you think he loves you at all? I could check for you, if you’d like.” She wiggled her blood stained fingers brightly.

Syn had a thousand things she wanted to say, but could barely draw enough breath to stay conscious. She settled for baring her teeth at the woman. Mab laughed and patted her cheek affectionately before standing again. She strolled towards Loki, hands clasped behind her back. “She knows the day will come when you cast her aside for your greed. It may be a year from now. Ten. A thousand. But it will come. And then what will she have left? No home. No family. Just wasted years and a broken heart she can’t mend.”

Loki’s expression was stark and lost, eyes too bright. Syn actually had a moment of sympathy for him. He could tear a person apart with a few choice sentences. But when it came to his faults, his problems, he was blindsided every time. His fists clenched, then his jaw, and he took a step towards her.

Mab stepped in his way. Syn couldn’t see her face but her voice was soft and oily smooth. “Why don’t I help you put her out of her misery?” she said, head tipped back to look at Loki’s face. “My portals reach everywhere. I know of a kingdom perched on the edge of war, ripe for the taking. I can send you there with some of my people.” She leaned closer, speaking so soft Syn could barely hear. “A kingdom and an army to conquer it with. All you have to do is leave her here. Her pain goes so deep that I could drink for centuries.”

Syn watched Loki’s eyes widen at the offer and let her own close. The searing pain in her chest flared then turned numb. Suddenly, she didn’t care very much about struggling to breathe. She wondered idly if this is what the others felt, when the stone started to take over. If so, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d feared.

Then Loki’s voice cut through her haze. “Enough.”

Her eyes snapped open in time to see him shove Mab out of his way and stride towards her. He kneeled down to her level and touched her face. “Listen to me,” he demanded, voice rasping. “You are the only person who has ever claimed to care about me who hasn’t betrayed me. When I try to push you away, you only come back stronger. You don’t give up.” He stroked her cheek, searching her face. She tried to focus on him. If she was going to turn to stone, she really wanted to hear this first. “No one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever tried. Even my mother -” He stopped, looking down, jaw tightening. “My mother said once I had light in me. No matter what dark deeds I committed, she always saw it. You see it too. You’ve seen what I can do, you _know_ what I am, and you still believe there’s something worthwhile in me.”

She struggled against the creeping numbness. His hands moved over her, down her arms. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and rough. “You said once I dress you in my colors. I do it because you’re _mine_. You’re the only thing that’s ever been completely mine. I didn’t have to trick you or fight for you. You’re just. . . mine. And there is nothing I would trade that for.” He rested his forehead on hers and whispered, “Not even a kingdom.”

Syn gasped, air filling her lungs for the first time since Mab had stabbed her. The numbness melted back into pain but she welcomed it. Pain she could handle. Pain meant she was alive. She sucked in another breath and pried her hands off her wound, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms went around her waist and he stood, lifting her to her feet. Her chest throbbed but she kept forcing in breaths until it became easy.

“Loki,” she whispered, voice breaking. She took another deep breath. No, now was not the time. They still had Mab to deal with and find a way out of this forsaken realm. She promised herself she would break down completely later and tried again. “Loki, darling,” she said in a stronger voice. “I think we’ve finally found a throne I’m willing to let you conquer.”

He gave her a wicked grin and together they turned to face Mab.

She stared at them and for the first time, Syn saw fear on her face. It made her smile and whatever the queen saw there made her turn and run. Syn and Loki exchanged a look and a nod before parting. Syn scooped up her staff and went after Mab.

She followed her up one of the side stairs and into yet another hall of statues. “Hiding, queen?” she asked, finding strength in her haughty persona. She walked slowly, on alert. “Have we rattled that calm reserve?”

“It’s impossible.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Syn didn’t bother looking around. “I held your _heart_ in my hand. No one has ever survived that.”

Syn actually laughed. “Well. No one has had Loki on their side before.” She had a sudden instinct and whirled, striking out with her staff, meeting Mab’s strike before it could connect. The queen wielded a wicked looking halberd fashioned in the same dark metal as the gates and doors. Syn was fairly sure it could take her arm off but a weapon was only as good as the person wielding it. And Mab was no fighter. Even with her many injuries, Syn was able to keep pace with her, meeting her blow for blow.

“Who do you think you are?” Mab hissed, glamour flickering in her anger. “You come to my realm. Kill my people. Steal my prize. Who do you think you are?” She swung wildly on her last words.

Syn blocked the blow with her staff and shoved, going on the offensive. She took a page from Loki’s book of intimidation. “I am Syn. Of Alfheim. The last of the royal line.” She blocked another strike and lifted a foot, kicking her opponent in the chest. The blow sent Mab flying farther into the hall where she scrambled to her feet, disappearing around a turn. Syn pursued, still boasting, twirling her staff as she looked for her prey. “I tamed the Trickster. Turned enemies into allies. I walked into the Realm Below with my will intact. And you have succeeding in pissing. Me. Off.” She caught a flicker of movement to her left and moved.

She turned in time to dodge the blade, but Mab followed with the other end and the handle cracked her across the jaw, sending her sprawling. Mab loomed over her. “I going to kill you now,” she said, all the pleasantness gone from her voice. “I’m going to capture Loki and send him to the darkest part of my garden and torment him until his mind _shatters_. Until he has forgotten your name and that you ever lived. Then I will take your head and mount it on my gate so everyone will see the fool that thought to defeat me.” She lifted the halberd, stepping closer. Syn wiped blood off her mouth with the back of her hand and grinned wide enough that Mab faltered. “What’s so funny?” she asked, weapon still poised.

Syn cracked her jaw. “Well first, you sound like a villain from a children’s story.” Mab’s eyes narrowed. “And second. . . I’m not trying to defeat you. I’m trying to _distract_ you.”

Mab’s eyes widened and Syn heard twin _thunks_ as Loki’s blades sunk into the queen’s back. The halberd fell from her fingers, landing with a harmless clatter to the stone floor. Syn met the other woman’s surprised eyes and spoke, low and intense. “We are going to leave you here to _rot_. Your subjects will fight for your throne and your precious realm will go on as before. As if nothing had happened. And, in time, no one will remember your name.”

Loki twisted his daggers before pulling them out and Mab’s body dropped gracelessly to the ground. He stowed the blades before offering Syn a hand and helping her up. “Well done, dear heart,” he said, touching her bruised jaw. “Are you all right?”

She looked down at the corpse at their feet and felt nothing. Not even a flicker of triumph. “No,” she said honestly, looking up at him. “Can we go now?”

He nodded and retrieved the beacon from her pocket. He inspected it with a look of disdain. “Science,” he muttered, before activating it. There was a pause and Syn felt her heart sink. Then a portal flared to life beside them, a vortex of blue and white. They exchanged a look, then stepped forward together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SweetTea is still awesome!
> 
> Not been a great week here at chateau d'Etoile but your reactions and comments always brighten my day. At least one more update this weekend and I expect Hellbound to wrap by mid-next week.

This trip was significantly easier than the first had been. Syn didn’t know if it was something Loki did or just her finally becoming acclimated to the journey between worlds. In any case, when they landed on the hard floor of Stark’s lab, she felt no nausea, just a profound sense of relief. It was a bit of a rough landing, too. Loki took the brunt of the blow for her, catching her around the waist and shielding her from the blaze of light and energy as the vortex collapsed. There was a moment of silence so complete that she was slightly concerned she’d gone deaf. Then Loki looked at her and gave a little relieved laugh. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly as he sat up, tugging her into his lap.

She was on the verge of allowing herself that breakdown she’d promised to have when the doors to the lab opened and she forced herself to loosen her hold on him. His arm tightened around her protectively as Thor, Romanov, and Stark came in. She put a hand on his arm and squeezed in warning. Somehow he got them both on their feet before the others reached them and she could feel him tensing for a fight. Something in his face must have warned the others because they stopped a few feet away. “You’re back,” Thor rumbled. It was perhaps not the most intelligent comment to be made, but at least it broke the silence.

“How long were we gone?” she asked and winced at how hoarse she sounded. 

“You left three days ago,” Romanov said. She was eyeing them cautiously and Syn wondered what they must look like, covered in dirt and blood and obviously exhausted. Speaking had reminded her of the bruise on her jaw and she raised a hand to cover it. Her magic came almost before she thought of it, eager as a puppy that had missed its master. She healed her jaw, her shoulder, and ribs but when she sent some power to the wound on her chest, it only flared with more pain. She gasped and covered it, feeling a fresh gush of blood.

“Jesus, you’re hurt.” That was Stark, genuine concern in his voice. He stepped forward like he’d touch her and she flinched back instinctively. Loki’s arm wrapped around her and she felt the chill of his magic rise. Stark lifted a hand and she noticed for the first time that the human had a gauntlet on, obviously ready for trouble.

“Don’t,” she said, though she wasn’t sure if she was talking to Loki or Stark. “Please, don’t.” Both men glared at each other another moment but stood down. She looked at Romanov. “I promised you information.”

“You look like hell,” the agent said. Her voice was devoid of emotion but her eyes held a world of sympathy and understanding. “You up for a debrief?”

Syn felt empty, as if someone had hollowed her, scraped out everything that had made her _her_ and left only a void. It left her numb, detached from what was happening. But she still had enough wherewithal to lift a hand and cover Loki’s mouth before he got them both into trouble again. “I feel worse than I look,” she assured Romanov. “But I promised and I’ll keep to it. I wouldn’t have gotten him back if you hadn’t helped me.”

Romanov studied her a moment, then Loki. “I had to let Fury out of the brig. I’m supposed to contact him when you arrive and take you both into custody.” She pulled a radio off her belt and dropped it on the ground before stomping on it with her boot. “Unfortunately, my radio is malfunctioning and I seem to have misplaced my cuffs. Why don’t you give me the short version before escaping to parts unknown?”

If she hadn’t been fairly certain it would get her punched or shot, Syn would have hugged the little red-head. “I can speak very quickly.”

“Loki,” said Thor. “I would have a word with you.”

“I’m not leaving her side, brother,” he said with a blend of exasperation and irritation.

She turned to look up at him. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “We’re among allies. At least for the next hour or so,” she added with a glance at Romanov. The agent made a little nodding shrug of assent.

Stark clapped his hands, the gauntlet making the sound metallic and muffled. “I’ll get those drinks then.”

And so, after a brief trip to the bathroom to wash her hands and face and peel off her ruined jacket and now unnecessary bandages, she found herself in an arm chair in Stark’s penthouse. She held a glass of something he’d called a Glenfiddich ’37 in one hand. The other held a wad of gauze to her chest wound. Romanov sat across from her while Loki and Thor had adjourned to the terrace. Syn had purposely taken a seat where she could keep an eye on the brothers in case one tried to throw the other off the tower. Based on Loki’s posture, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the topic of conversation but seemed to be keeping the worst of his homicidal tendencies in check. Stark was lounging by the bar, close enough to listen to her, but obviously wishing he could hear the men outside. She took a sip of the whiskey before starting, letting it burn down her throat and warm her stomach. 

“Your team is dead,” she started. She told Romanov about the man she’d mercy killed and how the shades fed. She gave a very brief and sanitized version of their fight with Mab. “There will probably be a power vacuum now that she’s dead. I doubt anyone will come after us but the portals will start again soon enough. You should keep watch for them and close them if you can. And whatever you do, don’t send anyone in there. There’s no coming back.”

Romanov glanced at Syn’s wound, then back to her face. “You made it out. How?”

Syn glanced out the windows at Loki. As if sensing her, he looked back inside and their eyes met for a few heartbeats. “Short answer? A miracle.” She looked back at Romanov. “Long answer is none of your business.” She thought she heard Stark chuckle a little. “I don’t know what else I can tell you, Agent Romanov. And I believe our hour of peace is just about over.”

Romanov nodded and got to her feet. Syn knocked back the rest of her drink and stood as well. They eyed each other a moment, then Syn smiled. “I don’t know where I’m going or how you would get in touch, but I consider you an ally. Beyond this hour. If you needed me, I would aid you.” 

The agent studied her a moment, then her mouth quirked up and she nodded, offering her hand. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Syn shook her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, Loki and his brother are having a perfectly civil conversation which I’m sure can’t last.” The redhead snorted as Syn passed her. She offered the empty glass to Stark. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me put you in a big scanner while you did that healing thing?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Maybe next time.” Stark lifted his glass in a salute and she went to the door leading out to the terrace. She stopped just outside to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.

“. . . welcoming me with open arms, brother. That time has passed,” Loki was saying.

“You underestimate our father, Loki.” Thor was consistent, she’d give him that. “I can speak with him. It’s obvious you’ve changed. If you can prove that to him-”

“I don’t feel I need to prove anything to him. Not anymore.” Loki’s voice was raspy but calm. “Let him cut me off. Have him declare me dead if it means he’ll leave me in peace. I’ve no desire to darken his door again.”

“Asgard will always be your home,” Thor said.

Loki glanced away and saw Syn in the doorway. She saw a ghost of his soft, real smile before he looked back at his brother. “No, it’s not,” he said and she was stunned at how gentle he sounded.

She walked out onto the terrace and joined them when it became obvious Thor had no response. “I believe our amnesty is near its end and Stark is planning experiments he can perform on me.”

Loki’s hand settled at the small of her back. “That would be our cue to leave, then.”

“Where will you go now?” Thor asked, looking from her to Loki as if they were strangers.

She expected Loki to lie or at least dodge the question but she didn’t see a single shadow on his face when he replied, “Alfheim, I think. Apparently their summer festival is not to be missed.” She stared up at him as he continued. “I don’t suppose Heimdal would be willing to give us a lift? I find my energy reserves rather low at the moment.”

Thor smiled. “If he’s feeling generous.” He held his hand out. “Be well, brother.”

Syn held her breath until Loki reached out and took Thor’s hand. “Until next time. Brother.”

She leaned into Loki’s side as the sky opened and the beam of the Bifrost swallowed them up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta SweetTea who helped out a ton making this chapter audience ready.

They landed on the hill near her house in Alfheim. It was dusk and the sun was turning the lake every shade of red and orange. She took a deep breath of the air and felt something unknot within her. Home.

She headed down the hill, Loki at her heels. Two years away but the stone cottage looked the same. Someone had been taking care of it. The hen house was empty, but her garden was weeded and pruned. Her porch was swept of leaves and the door opened without a creak when she turned the handle. 

Inside, the furniture had been neatly covered with cloths and, while it was far from dust free, neither was it two year’s worth. She smiled, touching the cloth on the couch. The villagers must have come to care for it, hoping she’d return. She’d bet all she had that Hilde, the blacksmith’s wife, had been behind it. She found a bundle of candles in the fire box and lit a few to chase away the gloom.

 Loki watched her move around the room. He still looked so out of place here. She brought the last candle over and put it on the little kitchen table. Now that they were alone again she found she had no idea what to say. Should they talk about what happened? What he’d said? Should she ask him why he’d brought her here? Try to figure out what happened now?

He stopped her whirling thoughts by lifting a hand and touching the armor at her chest, peeling the sticky leather away from her wound. “We should see about this.”

She didn’t look at it, staring instead at a blank spot over his shoulder. “I tried to heal it at Stark’s. It didn’t work.”

He tugged the leather away more but it wouldn’t give. Unlike his armor, hers had fastenings that allowed her to adjust it. He found the laces at the back of her neck and undid them, then the hooks at her shoulder, causing the bodice to sag away from her chest. He tugged it away and she resisted the urge the cover herself, risking a glance down instead.

 The wound was ragged, four or five inches long, curving around her breast, just to the left of her sternum. It looked as if someone had tried to carve her heart out with a dull knife. It had stopped bleeding but looked as if the slightest movement would reopen it. 

“Magic injuries,” he said quietly. “Usually require more effort.” He took her hand and used it to cover the wound. He covered her hand with his and looked at her expectantly.

Magic pooled in her shoulders, hot and eager to heal her. She closed her eyes and let it run free, pouring into her hand. After an instant, she felt Loki’s magic chase it, cold to her hot, green to her gold. She didn’t picture it stitching her skin together as she usually did when she healed. Rather, she imagined it filling the hole she felt inside her, wrapping around her heart and protecting it. It hurt, but it was the ache of healing not the sharp stab of injury. The magic filled her until it spilled out again and she opened to her eyes to see the last shimmer of green-gold disappear. She lifted her hand to inspect their work.

There was a scar, shiny white with angry red edges. Usually when they worked together no scar was left, but as Loki had said, this was no normal wound. She prodded the edges of the scar and found it hard and achey. It would probably heal more on its own, but the mark would remain. A permanent reminder of their adventure.

It was too much, the last straw. The breakdown she had promised herself was battering at her defenses. Loki ran a finger along the scar, then lifted his gaze to her face. What he saw there seemed to frighten him because he caught her arm. He was generally not good with tears and she tried to step away, but he tugged her against him and wrapped her up in his arms. The dam broke and she let herself cry into his chest, great wracking sobs the likes of which she rarely indulged. She linked her arms around his waist and held on as he rocked her. 

“I could feel her,” she whispered when she caught her breath. “In my head. My heart. Sliding through. I couldn’t st-stop her.”

He cradled the back of her head, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t want you to know. Those things she said. I didn’t-”

His arm tightened on her. “Don’t. It’s all right.” His fingers undid her braid and sifted through her hair so he could pet her properly. She knew it was as much for him as for her. “It’s better to know, isn’t it?” he added, kissing her brow.

 She shook her head and pressed her face into his shoulder as a fresh wave of tears came. He rocked her silently as she got it out, then began to speak when she quieted. “When she had me chained, I saw many things. At first, it wasn’t so bad. Odin, telling me I would never be worthy of a crown. Thor, listing all the ways he was better than me, all the ways I fell short. It was nothing I hadn’t told myself a thousand times.” 

The hand stroking her hair had grown jerky. She tightened her arms around him as he continued, “Then it grew worse. My mother, telling me it was my fault she had died. That if I had been there I’d have saved her. Instead of trapped in a cell for chasing a crown that wasn’t mine. That I was no more her son than Odin’s. That I had shamed her.”

Syn shifted so she could look at him. He was staring off into the distance, eyes bright and glassy. “By the time you found me, I didn’t think it could possibly get worse. I was holding onto my sanity by inches. Then I heard your voice. And I assumed the shades had decided to go in for the kill.”

His hand fisted in her hair. “Somewhere along the way, you became the person who mattered the most to me. I don’t know that I would have survived hearing you didn’t love me. That you had finally realized I was unworthy of you. That you should have turned your back on me long ago. I wouldn’t have wanted to believe it. But it would have cut to the heart of me.”

He glanced down and smiled when he saw she was looking. He stroked his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tear tracks. “And still, when I saw you there, I almost wished it was an illusion. Because I didn’t want you to be in that place. I didn’t want them to touch you.” His hand curled around her throat and she found herself smiling a little at the familiar weight. “I meant what I said, Syn. There is nothing anyone could offer me that would make me give you up.” He rested his forehead on hers and added in a whisper, “I am so sorry she hurt you.”

She closed her eyes, tipping her face up as his mouth found hers. The hand on her throat slipped back, under her hair, to cup the back of her head. She arched into him as the kiss turned from comfort to something more. His hands flexed, then he lifted his head. “I shouldn’t-” 

She dug her fingers into his back. “No. Don’t stop.” He searched her face, uncertain. “I need this. You.” Needed to feel him instead of the memory of darkness in her. Needed to remember that she loved him and he loved her, even if he hadn’t said the words. He must have read all of it in her face because he kissed her again, sweeping an arm under her legs to lift her. She cupped his jaw, holding tight as he took them to bed.

It, too, was covered in protective cloth. He peeled it away before lowering her to the mattress. He rid her of her leathers with a combination of magic and mundane then paused, inspecting the dried blood that coated her torso and shoulder. He gestured and a pitcher, bowl, and cloth appeared at the bedside. He kneeled by the bed, wet the cloth, and started to clean her, first the shoulder, then her breasts and stomach. The water was cooler than his skin and the cloth left goosebumps in its wake.

She watched his face as he tended to her. She’d told him once that they were a tragedy, an impossible match. It had been true at the time, should still be true now. The mad prince and the lost princess. The Trickster and the Truthful. They should have burned each other up but instead they’d managed to change. He was always changing her, turning her world upside down and rewriting its axis. From the first moment he’d spoken to her and forced her to say his name, her life had never been the same. She knew she had changed him as well, but it was subtler, hidden behind his masks and walls. This was the first time they had both changed together and she was a little afraid of what it meant for them.

He finished his ministrations and dropped the now rust colored cloth into the bowl. When he looked at her, his expression was hesitant. _Change is good_ , she thought, lifting a hand to stroke his jaw. Change could make an Alfan fierce. A Jotun gentle. Change and love. She opened her hand and a fresh cloth appeared, plucked from the chest of drawers against the wall. He smiled a little and his leather melted away with a shimmer. He wasn’t as bad off as she had been but still she cleaned his face and throat, his arms and shoulders. The ends of his hair grew damp and curled the way he hated but she loved.

When she was done, she tossed her cloth aside and cupped his face in her hands, pulling him to her for a hot, rough kiss. He froze for an instant, then responded in kind, rising up above her, forcing her back on the bed. Then it was just them, cool skin to warm, softness to lean muscle. She could feel him struggling to be gentle and loved him for it, but gentle was not what she needed. She needed passion to replace numbness. Pleasure to fill the void. So she tugged his lip with her teeth and let him feel her nails on his back. And he trusted her enough to listen and gave in.

His mouth was hot on her, teeth scraping her skin and he worked his way down her throat. He drew his tongue along her collarbone, nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat. Gentle kisses traced the line of her scar before he cupped her breast with his hand and drew the nipple into his mouth.

She arched off the bed, hands tangling his hair, holding him to her. His hands moved on her, twin trails of ice. He cupped her thigh, tugged it until she was spread wide, then his fingers found her center, cool and rough against her heat. He parted her folds, teasing and light, until she squirmed with anticipation. Then his thumb circled her clit as two long fingers speared inside.

 A guttural, animal noise ripped from her throat and he lifted his head to watch her face as he stroked her with his hand. At some point the sun had finished its descent and the moon had risen, filling the room with stark white light. His face was shadowed but she could see his eyes, pupils blown wide and dark as he loomed over her. Pleasure drew into a hot, tight knot in her belly, release just out of reach. Her hips lifted towards his hand, driving him deeper.

He bent close, kissing her scar again before bringing his mouth to her ear. “Let go,” he whispered, breath stirring her hair. “Let go, love, and I’ll catch you.” He twisted his wrist and she shattered, crying out. She came apart, let herself go, using him as her anchor.

She was dimly aware of him removing his hand and holding her as she floated. When she was sure of herself again, she tugged him, hands still buried in his hair, and kissed him. His arms slid around her and she pushed, rolling them so she was above and he was below. She sat up, straddling his lean hips and looked down at him.

 The moon must have been full, or nearly so, for the amount of light pouring in her window. A hunter’s moon, too early for harvest. He looked paler than ever in the white light, etched from marble, hard and cold. She flattened her palms on his chest, stroked them down, tracing muscle and bone. His hands closed over her thighs, swept upwards and framed her hips. She dug in with her knees and he lifted her easily, steadied her as she positioned herself and slid down his length. The expression on his face as he filled her stole her breath.

His hands stayed on her as she rocked on him, thumbs caressing her hip bones. He watched intently as she moved, eyes hooded, lips parted. With a ripple of muscle he sat up, arms sliding around her. They moved together, changed the angle and resettled so he could move with her, hips a counterpoint to hers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his hair. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered hoarsely, confession torn from her.

“Never.” He pressed a kiss into her shoulder. “I’m yours. You’re mine. We’ll find each other.” He leaned back, caught her mouth with his. They clung to each other, tangled together, as pleasure grew in her. It pushed out the aching numbness, drove away the darkness.

 He flattened a hand on her back and tipped her back, angling her hips and thrusting deep with the same motion. She sucked in a breath, fingers digging into his shoulder. Two more strokes and she lost herself again, body clenching around him as the orgasm claimed her. He groaned, whispered her name and joined her, his release hot inside her.

He wrapped himself around her afterwards, a cool wall of protection, his hands folded on her chest, hiding her new scar. That was how she drifted to sleep, lulled by his breathing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the finish line, people! The last chapter is an Epilogue and will go up tonight or tomorrow with my final note.
> 
> My eternal thanks to SweetTea, the best beta ever.

_Darkness swallowed her, filling her mouth and choking the air from her lungs. She sank down, down, down, scrabbling for help but none came._

_A dark haired little girl in a green dress ran through garden paths and she chased her. When she finally caught her, the child turned to ash at a touch._

_Desert winds whipped at her, flaying the skin from her bones, leaving her bleeding and raw. Loki called to her from far away but sand blinded her and the wind stole her cries._

_A ghostly shape with black eyes cut out her heart with a jade knife, laughing like a madman._

Syn jerked awake, heart pounding from a half remembered nightmare. Sun was pouring in the open window and she could smell the summer flowers that grew in the field. Unconsciously, she touched her scar, confirming that not everything had been a bad dream. She could feel her heart beating under the hard line and relaxed a little. “Breathe,” she murmured out loud, just to hear her voice. 

She glanced at the other side of the bed and found it empty. Her heart sank a little but part of her had expected it. Loki usually needed time to process before he could handle emotions. Hopefully he wouldn’t be gone five years this time. She was home, alive and safe. She could be happy with that.

The floor was cool beneath her feet as she walked to her chest of drawers and tugged one open. Her clothes were folded neatly with sachets of lavender for freshness and rosemary to keep the bugs away. She lifted one to her nose and inhaled, smiling. She needed to find something to pay back the women of the town for caring for her things. She pulled out a shift and tugged it over her head before hunting for leggings. 

Something clattered in the outer room just as she reached for her hair brush and she frowned. She left her hair wild, heading through the door to investigate.

She found Loki in the kitchen, in what she thought of as his casual clothes, tunic and breeches. He was glaring at the stove and glanced over at her as she entered. “I was trying to make you tea.” His scowl faded when he saw her face. “What is it?”

“I didn’t- You’re still here,” she said softly.

He blinked, then looked away, clearing his throat. “Well. I haven’t seen the summer festival, have I?” He poked the kettle disdainfully. “They’re building a bonfire in town so I assume it’s tonight.”

She went over to him and slid her arms around his waist, resting her forehead on his shoulder. Her heart ached at how much she loved him in that moment. “I’ll make tea,” she said, smiling against the soft linen of his shirt. “Open the windows; we should air out the house.”

They spent the day setting the house back to rights. She had never expected to see Loki being domestic but he did everything she asked without complaint. From hauling water from the lake to wringing out her dust rags. He even managed to feign interest in the contents of her garden as she picked and dried herbs, hanging bundles from the kitchen ceiling and filling the house with homey scents.

 As the sun began to dip, she knew it was time to get ready to go to town. She tried on every gown she owned but they all showed the top edge of her scar. She spent a few long moments looking at herself in the mirror wishing glamours worked on her. It would be such a simple illusion for him to hide it. She wasn’t ready for the looks or questions or sympathy. But this was Lakefire. Home. She had to start somewhere.

She ended up in the green and gold gown he’d given her so long ago. It was probably a little too nice for a country festival but she needed the mental armor it provided. Surely the resident witch could buck the dress code a bit. Loki grinned wickedly when he saw her. He’d changed into a nicer shirt, still green, but cut better, with black embroidery. She’d half expected the leathers so it was a nice surprise. “Do I need to use a glamour?” he asked, offering her an arm.

 “No. We’re far enough from the Capital that we barely hear Alfheim gossip let alone that from the other realms. I doubt anyone here will know your face.”

He looked down at her, lifting his other hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind an ear. “Ready?” At her nod, he lead them into the shadows.

 They arrived at the edge of town, in the shade of the tavern. She could see people gathering in the center of town, tables and booths of food and drink set up on the edges of the square. In the center was the wood for the bonfire, stacked well above her head. A few children had sparkler sticks and were dodging through the crowd giggling. It was familiar, peaceful, and the last of her nerves melted away as they stepped forward.

Hilde spotted her before they’d even passed the ring of food tables. The red-haired woman beamed and broke from the little group she’d been speaking to and came to greet them. “My lady,” she said, hesitating.

Syn reached out and hugged her. “Hilde.” The other woman was only a few decades older than her but had always treated her like a mother hen. “Thank you for taking care of my house.”

“I knew you’d be back,” she said softly, holding Syn close. “They didn’t believe me, but I knew.”

Syn gave her one last squeeze before stepping back. “And here I am.”

“And you aren’t alone,” Hilde said, looking at Loki with an unhidden interest that seemed to unsettle him.

Syn was a little tempted to let him fidget a bit more but took pity on him. “This is . . Lord Loki. Loki, this is Hilde. Her husband is the blacksmith.” He inclined his head.

Hilde gave her a broad wink. “Come have something to eat. Both of you.” 

Loki leaned down to speak quietly in her ear. “ _Lord_? You’ve demoted me.”

“They call me Lady, it seemed safest to give you a similar honorific. I didn’t think advertising you’re from Asgard was any wiser.” She batted her eyelashes. “I have a certain level of mystery here. Allow me to feed it when I can.”

He grinned at her and settled his hand at the small of her back as they joined the crowd.

Shadows stretched as they sampled food and wine. The rest of the villagers came to greet her and meet him. She met Hilde’s daughter, who had been born the night Loki had come back. The baby still had a headful of red curls and the biggest smile Syn had ever seen. The other children were slow to come over but eventually worked up their nerve as they always had. One of the little boys even found the courage to ask Loki, “Are you a witch, too?”

He stared at the little boy a moment, then crouched to his level. “I believe the correct term is wizard,” he said, holding his hands out to reveal the illusion of a dragon the size of a small cat. Syn rested a hand on his shoulder and leant him some magic to make the creature solid. The collected children gasped in delight as the dragon gave a roar and leapt off Loki’s palms, flying off to loop around the still cold bonfire. The children ran off to chase it, shrieking as it banked down close to them before soaring off again.

He glanced at her as he stood, took in the wide grin she was wearing, and snatched her wine glass from her. “Hush,” he muttered, taking a drink. 

They lit the fire when the sun dipped behind the mountains. The food ran out but the wine kept flowing as a few people picked up instruments and started to play. Syn and Loki found a spot on a bench by the blacksmith’s, him leaning on a post and her leaning against him, his legs bracketing her. She watched people dance in the orange firelight and the joy she felt started to fill some of the emptiness Mab had left in her. It gave her hope that someday the hole would be gone. Or at least small enough that she could ignore it. She wondered if this was what Loki had felt when he’d discovered his true heritage. Only he had filled his emptiness with darkness and anger. She leaned closer to him and he slid his arm around her waist, resting his chin on her hair. “What are they doing?” he asked, gesturing to a couple off to the side of the fire.

She watched the young man pull out a long length of ribbon and take the hand of a girl standing with him. “Oh,” she said softly. “They’re getting married.”

“With a piece of ribbon?”

“Watch,” she said. The couple clasped hands and wound the ribbon around their wrists with their other hands. Together, they tied a complicated knot to hold their hands together. “It’s called binding. They tie their left hands together, then say their vows in each other’s ear.” On cue, the couple bent their heads together. “Her mother gives them candles and his gives them kindling, then they go to their new home together and light the hearth. He cuts the ribbon and they keep the knot somewhere safe. The only time they untie it is if they decide to separate. Then they each take a piece of the knot with them to remember the bond. Otherwise it’s buried with whichever of them dies first.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “How do they do it in Asgard?”

He made a dismissive noise. “Oh, there’s an officiant and interminable vows and extremely fancy clothing. Takes all day and half the night.” He gestured with his chin at the now departing couple. “This was far more efficient.”

She laughed and sipped the last of her wine. “Efficient matrimony. It’s the Alfan way.”

Hilde made her way to them. “My lady. We wondered if you might be willing to give us a show? The way you used to?”

Syn smiled and put down her wine glass. “Of course.” She peered at the sky, finding a good clear spot and glanced back at Loki. He tugged her back against his chest and she lifted her hands, feeling their magic flood through her.

The sky erupted with fireworks. Everyone stopped dancing to watch. She focused on size and grandeur so the colors stayed mostly green and gold. It was fitting, she thought. Green and gold were the colors of planting and harvest. New buds and dried leaves. Beginnings. Hope.

The crowd began to thin after the fireworks display. Syn convinced Loki to walk back to her cottage instead of teleporting. They strolled side by side, not touching, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, she broke the silence. “So, what did you think of your first Alfan festival? Everything you’d hoped?”

“Oh, and far more,” he said with a grin. “Do you think we added to your air of mystery sufficiently?”

“I’m sure of it. I imagine there’ll be three new tales of the Winter Witch and her consort by supper tomorrow.”

He arched a brow. “Only three? And do you honestly think anyone in town knows the word consort?”

She laughed, still warm from the wine. “There’s a teacher,” she told him defensively. He chuckled and reached out, looping his arm around her waist and holding her for a few steps before letting go again.

“I see why you like it here,” he said, looking out at the fields. “It’s like you. Peaceful, uncomplicated. Honest. There’s no artifice, no games. What you see is what you get, for better or worse. I’ve never been anywhere so far removed from politics and war.”

The insight surprised her. It had never occurred to her that he might see the positive in her little town. It was so far from everything he claimed to want. She frowned, brow furrowed. “I think you just called me simple in there somewhere, but the rest of it was very nice, so I’ll let it go.”

The air was warm and still, heavy with the scent of wild flowers that grew along the path. They were almost home when he spoke again. “Why do you love me?”

She looked up at the clear sky, crowded with stars. He never could ask simple questions. “Why did you make a dragon for the children?” she asked in return. He opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut, giving her an odd look. She smiled softly. “We’ve a saying here. ‘Love has no reasons, evil too many.’ I love you because I love you. There is no why. Somehow, someway, your life made you someone I could love and my life made me someone who could love you.”

She expected a rebuttal of some sort. Perhaps pressing for a better explanation. But he was quiet. They came to the fork in the road that would take them home or out to the lake and he caught her arm, guiding her to the left, towards the lake. She had been looking forward to getting home, out of her dress and into bed but she let him tug her along the rough path towards the water.

The lake was lit up with moonlight, the water smooth and peaceful as glass. Loki stopped at a rise just before the water’s edge and she waited at his side until he was ready to speak. “If I was a good man, I would let you go,” he finally said, voice rough with restrained emotion. “Leave you here in peace.”

“I’d be lonely,” she said quietly, watching him watch the lake.

“But you would be _safe_ ,” he said, just as soft.

“Loki, what are you-”

“When I came here the first time, I didn’t expect you to come with me.” He glanced at her. “I thought to spend a few days with you. Remind myself what it was like to be. . . happy. I never thought to ask you to come with me. But then you offered, just as you offered before, in Asgard.” He stared out at the water and the mountains beyond. Syn stayed silent, watching him, unable to read his expression. This felt oddly like goodbye, but he had never been one for drawn out goodbyes. A few hours ago, she’d been unsurprised at the idea he might have left her in the night.

Finally he turned to look at her. “You lived life the way I wished for two years, without complaint. It almost killed you. I think, perhaps, it’s time I lived life your way.”

Her jaw literally dropped. She tried to speak a few times, but no sound came out. He gave his soft, private smile and touched her cheek. “You need to be here to heal. I need to be with you.” The smile widened into the trickster grin. “I’m not a good man.”

“Wh- Won’t you get bored?”

“If I do, then we find a way to alleviate it. Travel. Visit Midgard. Annoy my brother. In time perhaps we’ll find a happy medium between adventure and peace.”

With all the highs and lows of the last few days, this was almost too much. She was utterly speechless so she just just wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He held her waist, giving her his complete attention before lifting his head. “There’s just one more thing.”

Before she could speak, he gave a wave of his hand and pulled a long green ribbon out of the air. He caught her left hand in his and laced their fingers together. “You’ll have to show me how to do this.”

She shook her head. “Loki, you don’t have to-”

“I know. But if I don’t, you’ll spend your time wondering when and if I’ll leave and that will quickly become tiresome.” He offered her the ribbon, brows arched. She pinned the center between their palms and talked him through weaving the ends around both their arms. When he had wrapped it around them thirteen times, she helped him tie the knot right at the line of their pulses.

When he looked ready to speak again, she lifted a hand and covered his mouth. “You have given me plenty of vows the last few days,” she told him sternly. “I don’t think I can handle any more. My turn.” He smiled against her hand and gave a brief nod. She stroked his jaw, swallowing as she tried to think of what to say. “I will never leave you or betray you,” she said, because she knew that was most important to him. “I will always try to see the light in you and see you as the best version of yourself.” That made him smile so sweetly she felt tears choke her throat. She flattened her hand on his chest and added. “You will always have my heart.”

He curled his free hand around her throat, pulling her as close as he could, their bound hands trapped between them. He bent close and whispered, almost too soft to hear, “I love you, wife.” Then he kissed her and no more needed to be said.


	14. Chapter 14

Thor found himself on Alfheim a few months after the incident with the portal. After a series of heavily political meetings in the Capital, he made his way out to the countryside, to the town he knew Syn had taken up residence in years ago. It was early winter but a heavy layer of snow already covered the ground. Sometimes he thought Alfheim was as cold as Jotunheim but with a better tourism campaign. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come when there wasn’t snow or frost on the ground.

He avoided the town itself, not wanting to make a scene. People tended to assume trouble or danger was coming when they saw him. Best to avoid any sort of panic. He followed the path out to the stone cabin by the lake. He had been there only once but he remembered it as a warm, cozy home full of herbs. He expected to find her there alone, abandoned by Loki once again. Though there was a small chance the cottage would be empty entirely, both of them off on whatever sort of adventure Loki dragged her on.

What he did not expect when he crested the last hill was his brother, ankle deep in snow in the field by the cottage, showing a cluster of children how to make a proper snowball. 

Thor froze in his tracks, watching the tableau below. The cottage was bigger than he recalled it, with a room or two added to the back and a second floor. Smoke curled from the chimney and light glowed in the windows on the first floor. He counted at least ten children surrounding his brother, all listening raptly as they stacked small piles of snow balls. It took all the restraint he had not to rub his eyes in disbelief.

There was a crunch of snow behind him and he forced himself to turn to find Syn slowly climbing the hill. She had a basket hooked on one arm, full of food, and she smiled when she saw him. “Are you visiting or spying?” she asked as she reached his side. She was pink cheeked from the cold, draped in a heavy green cloak with a fur hood. She glanced past him and her smile widened. “Ah. Too surprised to continue?”

“Parents let their children near him?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Her expression cooled a bit. “He’s actually very good with children. They’re always very impressed with him,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “I actually intended this to be a pleasant visit.” She inclined her head and started towards the house again. He fell in step with her. “You’re doing well, then?”

“We are, yes. I think he’s still a little horrified by country life. But he tries. And it helps that the village likes us. They claim they’re ever so lucky to have a witch and a wizard watching over them.”

“I expected him to be gone,” he admitted.

Syn lifted a shoulder, glancing past him for a moment before looking at the path again. “Loki generally does what you least expect,” she said lightly. “He still surprises me regularly.”

He was silent a moment, watching her, remembering how she had looked last he’d seen her, pale and injured on the top of Stark’s tower. “Are _you_ well?” he asked quietly.

She glanced up at him, looking almost surprised. “I’m healing,” she told him, voice soft. She looked off in the distance a moment. “I know it’s hard to believe but he’s good for me. I grew up quite sheltered. Sometimes I need someone to help me handle the darkness.” She looked back to his face. “We accept each other.”

Thor shook his head slowly. “What are you to him? Really?”

He’d expected her to be offended but she just smiled. She lifted her skirt with her free hand so she could dart around a small drift. “I’m his wife,” she said smile becoming a grin. He stopped in his tracks and she took another step away. “And an excellent distraction.”

The words hadn’t quite processed when he was hit in the face with several snowballs. Momentarily blinded, he could hear Loki’s distinctive laugh among the giggling children.

 The children of the village would talk about the ensuing battle for years to come. The Winter Wizard and his army, who took down the prince of Asgard with a blizzard’s worth of snowballs. Thor did manage to get off a few retaliating throws, but he knew when he was beaten and yielded to superior numbers.

Loki strolled over to him as the children headed for the cottage. Thor peered up at him through damp hair. “How does it feel to finally beat me in combat, brother?”

Loki gave an easy shrug before offering him a hand. “I had an army.” Thor took his hand, getting to his feet easily. They turned to the house where Syn had collected the children on the porch and was handing out steaming mugs of what looked to be hot cider. As Thor watched, his brother’s face softened into a smile the likes of which he’d never seen before. 

He scooped up Mjolnir and pretended to inspect the strap.“So you’re married now?”

Loki glanced at him as they headed towards the house. “It was a private affair. It’s how they do it here.”

“I never thought I’d see the day.” 

They reached the porch steps and Syn leaned over the children to hand them each a goblet. “It’s mulled wine,” she told him. “I have mead if you prefer.”

He sniffed the wine and took an experimental sip. It was warm and doctored with unfamiliar spices but it wasn’t unpleasant. “This will be fine. Thank you.”

The children began to disperse, parting for the brothers to pass. Loki dropped a kiss on Syn’s brow on his way inside. The cottage was much as Thor remembered it. A few pieces of new furniture here and there, plus the staircase where the door to the back room had been. Loki pushed open a new door to reveal a small library. “To what do we owe the visit?” he finally asked, tone deliberately casual.

“Curiosity,” Thor replied, staring at the younger brother he barely recognized. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Least of all married and playing house.” Loki sipped his wine and didn’t respond. “I thought satisfaction wasn’t in your nature.”

Loki went very still before lowering his goblet. “I’m still not entirely sure it is. Peace, however, seems to be an option. As is happiness. Together, they make a reasonable facsimile.”

“How long do you expect it to last?”

“I’ve never been much of a fortune teller, brother.” Loki paced away from him till he reached one of the bookshelves, running a finger over the spines. “I imagine I’ll get bored eventually and we’ll travel again. But I’ve found it’s. . . pleasant to have somewhere to come back to.”

Thor took another draught of the wine. It was rather comforting after being out in the cold. “Is this what you meant when you said Asgard was no longer home?”

“Yes,” Loki said, sounding somewhat surprised. “Though I didn’t know it at the time.”

Thor looked around at the homey little room with snow drifting down outside the window. “I wish Mother could have seen this. You.”

Loki gave a familiar grin. “Honestly, brother, I’m half convinced she had a hand in arranging it.”

There was a gentle tap at the door and Syn leaned in. “The children have gone home. Will you be staying for supper, Thor?”

“Careful, dear heart,” Loki teased. “He’ll empty the larder if you let him.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I bought an entire roast from the butcher, I think we can manage.”

Thor looked from one to the other, marveling at the ease with which they spoke together. A part of him that was always quietly knotted with worry for his brother loosened and unraveled. He grinned widely at Syn. “I’d love to stay, sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Hellbound.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting. I have some of the smartest, most insightful readers ever and I enjoy every comment. I'm so glad you took this journey with me and that you enjoy my take on everyone's favorite mad demi-god.
> 
> Especially huge thanks to SweetTeaFrances my awesome, patient beta reader. I have never had a beta before, but she makes the editing process almost fun. 
> 
> So, there is one more story coming, the first part will be up this weekend. That story will finish this particular tale of Loki and Syn but it won't be the last you see of them. I announced this in the comments a few chapters ago, but just to make it official, I am working on an AU story with the two of them. It's nowhere near done, but I hope to be able to post it after this trilogy is over. 
> 
> Have a great rest of your week and I'll see you soon with _Kingdom Come_.


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